


Dreams of Our Past

by ertrunkener_Wassergeist



Series: Deep City [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bahamut (Final Fantasy XV) Being a Jerk, Blood and Injury, Canonical Voilence will come up eventually, Character Drama, Cultural Differences, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Healer!Noctis, I'm getting there, Languages and Linguistics, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot is a Slow Burn, Politics, Religion, Starscourge (Final Fantasy XV), Worldbuilding, great parts of this are set in an illegal clinic, teen-dad!Noctis, those are the characters with a POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 94,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18200897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ertrunkener_Wassergeist/pseuds/ertrunkener_Wassergeist
Summary: It has been five years since Noctis last saw the sky. Five years since he ran away from home out of fear. He has built himself a life he can be proud of but now his shadows and the Gods are closing in again. Time is slowly running out. Destiniy calls upon him while the Gods spin their own games.





	1. Noctis I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys.  
> English is not my first language. The grammar may be a tad awkward because of that. If you find any glaring mistakes please tell me so that I may fix them. Thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a tragedy and a guy with not enough sleep getting breakfast. While getting said breakfast he gets told an omnious message.

_3.31.751 ME_

_Insomnia, Upper Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Noctis’ clearest memory of this fateful day wasn’t the attack that nearly took Gladios eye, but the argument with his father. He couldn’t remember what said argument had been about, or which words had been spoken. What he could remember, as if it had happened just the day before, was the vulnerability in his father’s eyes and the sound of the door slamming shut as he left the room.

Maybe nothing would have happened as it did that day, but Noctis wasn’t naïve enough to think that it wouldn’t have happened at all. How it would have happened he couldn’t even begin to guess and neither did he want to. Only the Sisters knew.

The next thing he remembers of that day was the alley. Behind him he could hear the lively sounds good-humoured people, loud music and the voice of a merchant over speaker to drown out the masses. His eyes, used to seeing the colourful lights of the night market, couldn’t really make out the alleyway that stretched in front of him.

“You sure this is a shortcut?” he heard Gladio ask to his left right next to him, his bulk nothing more than a deeper shadow in the dark.

Noctis shot him a dark look that he was glad his shield couldn’t actually see. The elbow in his ribs told him he didn’t need to.

“Of course,” he said and tried to keep the testiness out of his voice while rubbing his now aching ribs. “Did you really need to do that?”

“Don’t get huffy with me, princess. You had to come in the first place.”

“It doesn’t matter if it actually is a shortcut or not. If we have to get through that crowd again it will surely take us longer and we cannot afford to be late, your highness.” Ignis’ cultivated voice came from just a step behind him.

Noctis bit down on the words that lay on his tongue sharp as swords. They did not have to accompany him when he insisted to leave the citadel. Duty or not.

They came past an even darker side alley that sent chills down his spine. The darkness reminded him of a hungry maw ready to devour unsuspecting passer-byes. Somewhere in front of them in the dim shadows they could hear something. It sounded like someone kicking over a can. Gladios strong hand landed on Noctis’ shoulder and kept him from going forward. For a moment they just stood there in silent tension, ready to act at a moment’s notice. Nervous sweat prickled on his skin. Nothing moved, then a cat came hissing out of the dark and vanished just as quickly.

“False alarm,” grumbled Gladio and took his hand off his shoulder.

“Better a false alarm than to stumble unprepared into a bad situation,” said Ignis.

Noctis kept silent in the knowledge that he would just start another argument, should he open his mouth. He didn’t have the energy for that right now. Instead he buried his hands in the pockets of his jacked and his face in the folds of his scarf against the cold and started walking again. He didn’t really want to go back so soon, but if he was late, he would get into even more trouble than he already was in.

He didn’t make it farther than two steps. His only warning that something wasn’t right was the slight reflection of light on glass and the disgusting stench of old alcohol.

“Shit,” he exclaimed and stumbled back. His shoulder banged into the rough wall of the house next to him and prevented him from falling onto the ground. A splintered bottleneck missed him by a mere ten centimeters.

“Noct get back!” yelled Gladio and stepped in front of him.

Ignis helped Noctis to get his feet back under him and pulled him a few steps backwards. Out of the nightly shadows stepped a man dressed in rags with the purple veins on his nose identifying him as a drunk. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused and a swayed dangerously from side to side. In his right fist was the bottleneck, sharp edges glinting dangerously.

“Shove off and we will forget that this happened at all. How’s that sound?” growled Gladio lowly in his throat and towered threateningly over the beggar.

For a moment it seemed as if the guy would tail it out of there, but then he babbled something unintelligible, swung his improvised weapon around as if it was a dagger and tried to slash at Gladio. Suddenly Noctis became aware of the fact that none of them were armed. He himself hadn’t mastered the armiger yet and on ground of that also hadn’t shared his magic with his retinue. Most of the time he hoped that day was still a long way off. Now was not such a day.

Mesmerized Noctis and Ignis observed how Gladio took half a step back and then took a strike himself. He would have struck him, if the beggar hadn’t tripped over his own feet and flailed his arms around in an attempt to regain his balance. Gladio, despite all his training, couldn’t sidestep the not-attack in time. First the bottleneck sliced through cold air, then warm flesh.

Roaring in pain Gladio pressed one hand against his strongly bleeding face and backhanded the drunk with the other. Stunned the guy stared at the bloody bottleneck in his fist before the strike careened him into the wall where he fell down like the very picture of misery.

“Gladio!” yelled Noctis and Ignis and rushed forward.

The former however stopped abruptly. His white magic rattled forcefully at his bones until his teeth clattered and his limbs started shaking, the nearer he got. He had to scrap every bit of his willpower together to keep it from spilling over and repairing the damage done to his shields face. It would have been so easy.

He could nearly see the destroyed tissues of skin and veins in his mind’s eye. Despite the circumstances it was a clean cut. It wouldn’t even take that much energy. As if hypnotized, he stared at the ruby red drops of blood dripping onto the asphalt.

“Noctis, call an ambulance! Hurry!”

Ignis’ yell made him blink. Frightened he stared at his hand that had begun to glow in a violet-golden light. Hastily he clenched it into a fist to banish the magic and looked at Gladio. He sat against the house wall, groaning in pain, Ignis leaning over him and pressing his scarf against his face.

“Do it already!”

Noctis recoiled as if struck. His heart was beat way to fast, his blood pounded in his ears and he could feel his breath coming in short bursts out of his mouth. Not good. The still logical part of his brain told him he was near a panic attack and a magical breakdown, the hysterical, and bigger, part found it hilarious. This just couldn’t be happening.

His teachers had warned him. When someone suppressed his magic, pushed it farther and farther back, it would inevitably break free. The damage would not be foreseeable. Desperately he looked at his friends. He could not stay any longer. He couldn’t. Not without hurting them. Noctis forced himself to close his eyes so that he would not see the faces of Ignis and Gladio as he turned away and in a mad rush ran into the deep shadows of the dark alleyway.

* * *

 

_7.28.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Lowest Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

How no one in the upper parts of Insomnia had been able to find the Shadow Market yet, Noctis would never know. Hell, even most people from the lower districts didn’t know of this place.

It was early in the morning. Very, very early. Even if one were to stand up on the city wall, the sun wouldn’t be more than a notion in the dawn. Noctis dearly wanted to sleep, do nothing more than burrow beneath the thin summer blankets and cuddle his wife, but he had people to look after, duties to see to.

It had nothing to do with Hiemi, his fiery and wonderful wife, kicking him out of bed. It certainly hadn’t.

Darkness reigned nearly undisputed in this part of Insomnia. There was no electricity to power street lanterns that weren’t there. The only lights were weak things glimpsing out of near blind windows in houses that, by all rights, should have collapsed in on themselves a long time ago.

He could hear the market before he could see it, the loud buzzing of people, of activity, was jarring in the previous sleeping silence. Light spilled around the corner, nearly blinding him. He could barely make out the burly man casually leaning against a crumbling wall, tipping at his red bandana in greeting. It was barely keeping the black mess that was his filthy hair together.

Noctis nodded back. Better not to say anything, lest he decided he could get away with demanding a fee for passing without using the hoist. That had happened often enough already. Noctis made his way to the ladder, the rusty metal creaking audibly under his weight.

The Shadow Market was an impossibility stacked upon old bridges, which seemingly led nowhere, up until twenty meters into the air. Booths, built by the vendors manning them, sat next to and sometimes even on top of each other like a huge jigsaw puzzle, only leaving enough space in the middle to let the people pass by. It was lively and cramped and stank of waste, sweating bodies, rusty metal, oil and food.

“Look at what the sewer rats dragged in. Still haven’t grown another centimeter I see,” said a smirking voice to his right.

“At least I don’t have to crawl through nests of metalcrabbers every Gods damned day,” answered Noctis, his own smirk tugging at his lips.

He turned and saw Aes, slightly leaning out of her booth built out of artfully welded metal. Her black dreadlocks were bound out of her face by a piece of braided wire and small burn scars dotted the dark skin of her naked arms.

“You still want me to check on your water cleaning station, right?” Her teeth flashed in a shark-like grin, a sharp humor dancing in her eyes.

“How’s it going?” asked Noctis, ignoring her question.

That Gods damned water station was always broken and Aes always came by to fix it, even if it wasn’t within her area of expertise at all.

“Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that. It should rain at the heaps again soon. You better prepare for the rookies to show up.”

Noctis groaned. “Don’t they know to wear their protective gear by now?”

“I’m not their mother, you know. Stupidity is sadly not curable,” shrugged Aes. She shot him a meaningful look.

“You know it doesn’t work like that, right?” he couldn’t help but point out.

She snorted. Her deadpan stare was answer enough. Something fell on the roof of her booth, the loud metallic clang drawing the attention of the people in the vicinity. Someone yelled an apology from above. Faster than he could blink Aes was leaning so far out over the counter, that Noctis feared she would fall over.

“Watch what you’re doing you asshole! If you damaged my gods damned roof, you’re sure as hell gonna repair it!”

Noctis snorted. “I’m going to leave you to it. If you’re coming by today, it’s fish for dinner.”

“Sure. Greetings to Hiemi and the brats.”

He waved carelessly and walked through the morning crowd farther up the bridge to get to the nearest ladder leading up. The giant of a man with the filthy red beret and the baton at his hip eyeballed him mistrustfully as he grabbed the metal bar of the ladder until he recognized him. The guy nodded in a way that may have been supposed to be friendly and let him pass without a word. He tried not to care as the guy stepped into the way of the person behind him, the half panicked protests slowly drowning out behind him.

* * *

 

Gammers mobile oven stood in a crammed niche on a bridge nestled so close to the rock wall that one could touch it without problems, if one was dumb enough to lean so far over the balustrade. Only one lantern pushed back the shadowy darkness next to the flickering oven fire. The scent of freshly baked bread made his mouth water.

An old woman stepped out behind the oven. Her bend over form was covered in fine dustings of flour and dirt gathered deep in the wrinkles of her face. As she saw him her wrinkles parted into a toothy smile full of holes.

“Right on time, laddy. They are as good as done.”

Noctis smiled, long accustomed to Gammers antics, while the old woman took a pole in hand, whose end was flat and wide, and fished a tray full of buns out of the oven. Noctis’ stomach grumbled loudly. Without paying attention to the heat Gammer put the buns into a crumbled paperbag.

“Good morning to you, too, Gammer. How are you today?”

She cackled loudly and grinned. “Good, good, my dear. Excellent, really. If I get my payment, that is. It’s been so long since someone bothered to pay fairly for my labours.“

Bony fingers held the paperbag close to his face. Noctis rolled his eyes good naturedly and pulled a small metal container out of one of the deep pockets of his old military coat. It was as wide as the palm of his hand and as high as two of his fingers. Hastily Gammer plucked it out of his grip and deposited the paperbag without further ado into his arms. Even through his coat the heat was uncomfortable. Swiftly she pulled the container open and smelled at the mint green salve within.

“Good, good,” she murmured. Her voice ground like millstones. “Good, good. Your wife is getting better and better with these recipes.”

“Thank you. I will relay it as soon as I see her.”

“Yes, yes. You do that,” she said as if it was all the same to her and began to knead a new batch of dough in a chipped bowl as she talked without pause. “You should take care of louse tongues among your followers, Healer, if you don’t want to be found. Especially the canal rats do not know when to stop.”

Noctis made a face and pushed the fear and frustration that threatened to well up aside. This wasn’t happening.

“I don’t have followers”, he growled out between clenched teeth, the words nearly getting stuck.

Gammer crowed gravelly. “It is as unavoidable as the burning fire and the flowing water, laddy. The Six cloak themselves in silence.”

“But not all.”

“No, not all. But also no one is listening. Or maybe no one wants to. Who knows what people would do if they actually listened.” She laughed as if she just told a joke only she understood. The fire in her oven cracked as if to approve. Her hands, full of flour and chunks of dough under the nails, grabbed his wrist like a vice.

“Watch after yourself and your charges Healer-of-the-People. The fires are restless and the embers cast deep shadows. Something is coming, thirsting for blood. The Deep City will not let you leave its protective embrace willingly.”

Gammer let his wrist go and the man calling himself Healer among the people of Deep City stumbled back as if he had been struck.

“I… I - what are you saying?” he sputtered and shook his head so hard his black hair became a dark shroud around his head.

Her light brown eyes were old and full of pity. “You do not get remembered as you were, but as what the people say you were, laddy. Especially you should know that.”

She started to form the dough into fist sized balls. For a moment he just stood there and didn’t know what to do with this conversation. When he woke up this morning he hadn’t expected for his day to go to shit this early. For so many years he had lived in relative anonymity. Now he could practically feel it dissipating while he desperately tried to cling on, like a child holding on to their blanket to shield themselves from the horrors of the night.

“What are you still doing here? Chop-chop, before your wife arrives with the fury of the Infernian on her heels.”

Noctis winced at the thought. Keeping her and the children waiting was a bad idea. He nodded to Gammer and turned around. The foreboding feeling in his gut stayed until his clinic came in sight. It had been his home for the last few years and he wasn’t sure if it would and should stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may have noticed and like I said in the tags, there will be many OCs. Mainly because large parts of this story will be told in parts of Insomnia we haven't really seen or I have thought up and a city needs life. Ergo OCs. I'll try to keep their count on the down low but it's proving difficult. -.-  
> The first one you see is Aes Ferrum, whose name is Latin and means ore/copper and iron/weapon. She is the leader of the caste of people concerned with all things metal (smiths/artisans/mechanics/etc.). See where I'm going with this? ;)  
> Gammer is, well, Gammer. No one knows her real name and she's a baker, old and a little crazy. Everything else would be spoiler, sorry (not sorry).   
> Now to the pairing:  
> I don't really ship Noctis/Luna. They just don't click for me like that. If they had to marry they give me the vibe of being near platonic life partners and since there are not many other female characters one could take as love interests, I decided on an OC. There won't be anything directly sexual going on in this fic besides kissing, flirting and cuddling. Everything else is off screen because A) I can't write it and B) my own sexual orientation is not really geared towards writing things like that. I hope you can understand and respect that.
> 
> Next up: Hiemi! (OC)


	2. Hiemi I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short look to Noctis' aforementioned wife and their first meeting!  
> Teen-dad!Noctis makes an appearance.  
> This was not how Hiemi thought her day would go. She would like to murder her cousin, please.

_2.7.752 ME_

_Insomnia, Lowest Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The huge carry basket on Hiemis back was thankfully empty as she made her way back home. Mushrooms, dried herbs and bits of this and that which don’t need much sun to grow were not supposed to be overly heavy, but her aching shoulders said something entirely different. For the millionth time she had to tell herself that this was better than the alternative. It was one thing to sell your wares on the Shadow Market, and it was an altogether different thing to pay the fee for the hoist.

Next time she would foist this duty onto her damned cousin before he could scamper off again. That sissy. Cussing lowly Hiemi trotted through shadowy alleys lined with decaying clinker houses. At least that asshole of a merchant took the wares without trying to grab her butt this time. If he did that one more time she would –

Was there a baby crying?

There was definitely a baby crying. Irresolutely Hiemi gnawed on her lower lip and came to a stop. On one hand this could be a new tactic of the outer gangs to mug unsuspecting people, on the other it was a baby that may need her help.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath and readjusted the carry basket on her back her stinging muscles protesting loudly. She would go looking against her better judgement, wouldn’t she? Sullenly she buried her face inside her holey scarf around her neck and tried to locate the cries, which wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.

The Clinker Alleys were one of three direct access points to the Shadow Market leading down to a part of the river that was nearly overbuilt and where small farms were crowded. Most of the houses in the alleys were uninhabited and empty but sometimes people came by to scavenge some of the bricks. Additionally the western parts were the hunting grounds of the Marmortis Gang. The result was an entanglement of walls, piles of debris and small squares, where one could get easily lost.

If someone abandoned a baby here…

Resolutely stepping forward Hiemi turned left instead of going straight ahead like she usually did and reached for the green mist of her magic resting inside her bones. Better to be safe than sorry. Now and then she would stop to listen and correct her course. The cries grew slowly weaker. Involuntarily her steps grew quicker, more and more convinced that this wasn’t an ambush, and even if it was, then her would-be-attackers wouldn’t know what hit them.

Carefully climbing over a pile of splintered bricks, she came to a halt on a small square that once upon a time must have been the interior of a house. It was hard to tell. Over the cries she could now hear a male voice even if she couldn’t understand what it was saying. She was getting close.

Hiemi walked around another corner and froze. In a niche in front of her in the half-light sat a scrawny teenager of maybe fifteen or sixteen years of age with sickly pale skin and dark rings under his eyes. She couldn’t say that she knew him. In his arms he held a newborn baby, whose cries had tapered off into pitiful whimpers. His quietly whispered words gained a desperate undertone. What had happened to him and the baby? She scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. In spite of everything he didn’t seem like a junkie or at least a typical one. Neither did he have the facial tattoos of one of the Marmortis even if there were a few fine lines adorning the left side of his face.

“Hello. Can I help you? You seem like you need it,” asked Hiemi carefully her tone even.

The teenager flinched so badly Hiemi feared for a moment he would let the baby fall, instead he clutched it harder to his chest, shot to his feet and backed up until his back hit a wall. His strange violet eyes flashed dangerously and seemed to glow like a cats. She could practically see the magic sparking in warning and protection under his skin.

Hiemi carefully didn’t flinch back but the grip on her own magic tightened, instead she raised her hands in, she hoped, a pacifying manner. “Don’t fear. I won’t harm you or the baby.” He didn’t move. It seemed more like he would rather bare his teeth like a cornered animal. She sighed and tried to give her voice a calm and steady quality. “Okay. All right, when was the last time you ate something? The baby? Is it a girl or a boy?”

By the light of the sun, what was she doing? She stayed where she was and hoped she wouldn’t provoke the teenager any further. He was like a great horned cat defending its young.

“His name is Astra,” the teenager murmured.

Hiemi smiled. “That’s a beautiful name. Did you give it to him?“

He nodded hesitantly his tense posture starting to ease up a bit. A small victory. Astra whimpered pitifully in his arms. They both looked down at him, alarmed.

“Astra needs something to eat,” stated Hiemi and didn’t bother to hide her worry.

“I don’t have money,” he whispered so quietly she could barely understand him.

“That doesn’t matter. We can think of something, yes? I know someone who has milk for newborn babies, she’s a midwife. Would you like to accompany me? She could look your boy over if you like, see if everything is alright with him. Lily is very competent.” She paused and wanted to kick herself in the butt. „By the way, I’m Miss Hiemi Vigilans. It’s nice to meet you.“

The teenager’s mouth opened and closed as if he didn’t know what to say. He looked at the baby in his arms and straightened his shoulders resolutely. “Call me Healer,” he said and looked at her with his gleaming eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of Noctis' OC wife is Hiemi Vigilans which is Latin for 'winter/cold' and 'to be observant/vigilant'. She's roughly two years older than him. I hope you like her.
> 
> Next up: Noctis again!


	3. Noctis II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family doing family things with a hint of plot and a first look at white magic in action. I told you it would be a slow start ;)  
> Enjoy the read.

_7.28.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The clinic at the Old Boulevard was the first thing to catch the eye arriving there. It stood at the outer edge of Deep City, the first lived in building one saw when climbing down the last of the Hidden Stairs, one of the ways leading into the city, which had the consequence of it standing out horribly between caved in roofs and crumbled walls. Of the other manors lining the street only empty husks remained, their windows blinded holes where once upon a time twinkled hopeful lights like stars in the dark. The walls of the clinic had been painstakingly repaired which gave them the rather ridiciulous look of having taken a wild paintbrush to the face, but even that could not cover the scars of neglect upon the once regal stone and the flat gable roof had partly gotten a makeshift repair. If the rain ever reached them down here these roofs would be utterly useless.

Noctis had stated to repair the main building four years ago. Back then it hadn’t been much more than the ruins surrounding it with the exception of a, while not truly functioning, still standing roof. After years of work and the help of thankful patients and strangers looking for work the manor was once again livable. At least the main house was. More or less.

Hiemi stood at the threshold of the open annexe, made from a mix of bricks and corrugated iron, built into the front side of the clinic with a broom in her hand waiting for him. Her unruly locks were bound back into a wild bun with a long headscarf barely taming it. She leaned the broom against the wall with a quiet clanking sound and then stood there arms akimbo.

“You certainly took your sweet time, mister,” she said playfully in the rolling singsong dialect of Deep City that was closer to Ancient Lucian than the modern variant.

With an apologetic smile on his face he stepped next to her, slipped his arms around her waist and gave her a soft kiss in greeting. Hiemi herself couldn’t quite suppress an answering smile. She relaxed in his hold and leaned more of her weight against his body. The homely smell of rosemary and lavender filled his nostrils. For a moment he hugged her closer, pressed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes.

“I hope you had a wonderful morning, my life,” he murmured quietly and nosed the pale expanse of her neck.

A quiet chuckle escaped her while she gently stroked his long hair. “What has gotten into you Healer?”

He hummed non-committedly and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to let her go. “It’s nothing, really. Gammer just said some things when I got breakfast from her.”

“That’s not nothing,” said his wife and gently pushed him far enough away that she could look into his eyes. Hers were an unusual dark green that reminded him of the royal gardens during summer. “Did she prophesize your death?” The question was only asked half-jokingly.

Noctis shook his head. “She said something about a looming danger out for blood and that I should be careful about who talks about me, especially with the canal rats. Apparently they love to talk.”

Hiemi frowned, concern clear on her face. He knew what she thought. Gammer had the tendency to be right in everything she said, even if most people not from Deep City didn’t really listen. Once she told him that it would rain earlier than expected and not even half a day later some company from Above threw their toxic waste down into the heaps. That had been a shit day.

“Mati, is tata there yet? I’m hungry!”, came the voice of their daughter from just inside the clinic.

His wife looked at him and mouthed a silent _we will talk later_ at him before taking back up the broom to finish sweeping the floor. He nodded and made his way inside while putting on a cheerful grin and calling: “Breakfast is here!”

“Tata!” yelled his daughter enthusiastically and threw herself at him nearly knocking him over.

“Good morning, my light,” laughed Noctis, “Were you good for your mother?”

Solaris nodded brightly. “Of course! Tulia told us a story about the city. About how old the big wall is and why people build houses on top of houses. Tata? I don’t think the Architect had a very good idea.”

Rising a single eyebrow – a thing he learned at the time just to annoy Ignis – while guiding his daughter to the kitchen, he asked: “What makes you think that?”

“Because they always throw their stuff down at us,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was for her. He suppressed a sigh. If it were that simple his life would be a whole lot easier. “I don’t like someone throwing stuff at me.”

“I don’t think they would like it either,” he said and entered the kitchen.

“Then why do they do it?”

Before Noctis could answer another little cannonball attached itself to his leg. Swooping down and picking the small child up he wondered how he could have gotten blessed with these two. Astra laughed, high and clear making Noctis want to glow.

“Tata, Tuli told a story!”

“Really?”

“Yes! There is a wall and people above us and they live there. Do there live people above them, too?”

“Sometimes,” he answered and smiled at Tulia who sat at the massive table that dominated a large part of the room. He adjusted the little boy in his arms to get to the paperbag full of buns. “You are getting too heavy for this, you know that?”

“Am not,” the boy said and kicked his legs right into Noctis’ ribs.

Suppressing a curse he put his son down. Damn, did Astra have a mean kick. Unbidden his mind flashed back to _that woman_ and how she had complained about the kicks when she had still been pregnant with him. Forcing the memories away he walked over to the hopelessly cluttered counters while trying not to stumble over the two children running around him in a weird game of keep away that somehow involved him as some kind of barrier. The buns were still warm when he set them on a platter. Tulia helped to set the table all the while patiently answering the children’s questions.

“What’s outside the wall?”

“Outside there are other people and animals and plants. It’s a bit like here, I imagine, just greener and with much more space.”

“How much bigger?”

“That is a very good question Astra. I must confess that I don’t know, seeing as I’ve never been outside the wall myself. Maybe you and your sister can go out one day and tell me what it really looks like.”

“Really? Can we, tata? Can we?”

Noctis gave a strained smile as he looked at two pairs of huge and hopeful eyes, one a very light stormy bluish grey and the other warm honey gold. “When you are both older and won’t give me any grey hairs running off. And you’re both experienced enough not to get sky sick.”

“When is that?” asked Solaris and sat down on her chair, legs swinging.

“When you can look up into the sky and not get sick.”

“Oh,” she said and made a face.

A year ago they had visited Hiemis cousins on their farm down by the river and Solaris had, despite all warning, run off to see the sky. They had found her lying there on the ground, dizzy and disoriented. Since then she had avoided the rare patches of blue one could see from down here like they were the plague. Every time she did that it sent a lance of hurt into his heart. To see the girl that was his daughter in every way that counted so scared of the sky and Astra not really understanding what the sky even was broke something in him. It was a heavy price to pay for safety.

“Tulia, may I see you after breakfast for a last check up? I want to know if I got everything out and if your sight is obstructed in any way,” Noctis said to distract himself.

“Of course,” nodded the older woman with a warm smile that brightened up the room like it always did. It made Noctis feel better and guiltier all at once.

“Can I watch?” asked Solaris while Astra in his high chair next to her began to demolish his bun to scoop up the sweetened paste within them.

“No. You, my light, have to get ready for school. Don’t just eat the paste, little star.”

“But I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay and help you.”

Noctis sighed and tried to keep his temper. Parenting was hard. It gave him a whole new appreciation for his own father who had had to juggle being a parent with being a king. He suppressed a grimace. Better not to think about it right now or his bad conscience would make him actually go up to the citadel and that would not end well.

“You can help us with going to school and learning. Then, when you’re older, you can help us even better than you can now,” answered Hiemi from the door before Noctis could really think of an answer. Thank the light of the sun for his wife.

“But-“

“No buts. Eat up and then you can help me with the dishes while your tata examines Tulia.”

A sullen nod was her answer. Noctis stacked a few buns and plates on another platter and made his way out of the kitchen to serve breakfast to the other five over-night patients that hadn’t come down. On his way he gave his wife another kiss and the both of them laughed at the gagging noises their children made.

“Just wait until you both are old enough, then you will find kissing all of the sudden a lot more interesting,” he could hear Tulia laugh while both children protested loudly. Then he was out of earshot. 

* * *

 

Noctis watched pleased as Tulia carefully read the rows of letters growing smaller and smaller a few meters in front of her out loud. She only had to give up at the second to last row. That was good. Very good, even. He nodded, pulled one of the empty chairs in the room closer to sit down. It was the closest he had to an actual doctor’s office. The room was stuffed with metal drawers packed full of medicines, both legally and illegally obtained, and everything else he might need. The holes in the plaster of the walls were covered with colourful pictures Solaris and Astra had drawn over time. Opposite of the eye chart hanging on the wall next to the door stood a stretcher upon which Tulia sat.

“That was very good. Now close your eyes and I will see if I can find any residues left but after that showing I highly doubt it. If I can’t find anything you’re good to go. Just remember to come back immediately if your eyes do act up again.”

With a smile on her lips she nodded and held her long greying hair out of her face. Tulia was a small and lean woman near fifty years of age and a laugh that made her look a good ten years younger. Gently Noctis touched first her right, then her left fluttering eyelid with long and thin fingers. Little violet-golden sparks jumped from his fingertips over her closed eyes and sank into the thin skin of her eyelids. In the darkness of his own closed eyes a picture formed in the colours of his magic. It was as if someone took the finest brush to be found, submerged it in his magic as if it were paint and then painted the lines with the darkness as the canvas merely waiting to be filled.

The cornea, posterior ocular chamber and anterior ocular chamber, the pupil and the vitreous body. Lens, zonules, ciliary muscles and the retina. They all were clear and worked normally for a fifty year old woman. Straining, he bit his lower lip in concentration as to not use too much magic. It would mess up his libra spell and power him out, nothing to say about the potential harm it could do to his patients. Sometimes it felt like he tried to form a dam with his bare hands to hold back a roaring river. He let the sparks carry his spell until he reached the optic nerves, pulled his fingers away and the intricate violet-golden picture behind his closed eyes faded slowly. Every time he blinked he could see its shadows wandering over his retina. The whole procedure hadn’t taken longer than a few minutes.

“I can’t find anything,” he finally declared, “but again, should there be any problems at all, you come back here, all right?”

Tulia laughed loud and high. She seemed to glow with happiness. Noctis had to think of Hiemis theory that Tulia only laughed this much because her own husband never did. _She laughs enough for two, so he doesn’t have to make an effort._ If you asked him it was hopelessly exaggerated. Even if he had to admit that he had never seen the corners of Sallusts mouth so much as twitch.

“Thank you very much Healer. I don’t know what I would have done, if I had gone blind. Tomorrow I will come again with the appropriate payment.”

Noctis waved her word aside. “It’s all right. You and Sallust have done more than enough for me and my family. Who would I be if I would charge you for a favour?”

“What utter hogwash. Don’t look a gifted chocobo under the feathers. Close your mouth and take the payment you deserve for your work. My sister gave us way too many sacks full of potatoes again and the food for your family and patients has to come from somewhere. Be glad I don’t try to make you into a god like those canal people did.”

Noctis lowered his eyes. Well, this was awkward.

* * *

 

Solaris waved energetically as she walked down the Old Boulevard towards the school with Tulia. Her husband had taken it over many years ago, before they were even married. Now she helped him teach while at the same time managing the only public library in Deep City. Most days she came by to collect the children and take them home again. She was one of the few grown-ups their daughter would go with of her own free will.

Noctis, Hiemi and Astra waved back standing at the edge of their property and watching until both turned right into a smaller street and vanished from sight. Arms slung around their waists they slowly made their way back inside, Astra holding his father’s free hand an carrying his trusty plush chocobo Coco with him. He looked at his wife thoughtfully.

“What exactly did you talk to Soli about? I’ve never seen her go to school with such… enthusiasm.”

“Maybe she finally realized that she has to be able to read and write and know all kinds of other useful things to truly be able to help you. After all, you always read those gown-up books.” Her last sentence was said in a serious tone but her eyes were sparkling with laughter.

Noctis snorted. “Somehow I doubt that. She already gets me to read anatomy books to her and Astra. He treats them like they’re interesting picture books. Did I ever tell you about the time he made up names for the different bones in the human body because he thought the original names are silly?”

Hiemi laughed and they both looked at the boy who was running around in circles cawing loudly all the while flapping his trusty Coco up and down. “I know. There was a sitting bone and a standing bone and a pointy bone and a whole lot of twig bones.”

Noctis stared at her like a disgruntled cat. Those days still gave him a headache. Secretly, however, he was glad they both were so interested in the things he did. He could still remember the time he himself had tried to sneak after his father when he was little, just to be caught by his nanny and later Ignis. Noctis just hoped they would never lose that interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the words used for 'mother' and 'father':  
> I played around with the Latin words for them, 'mater' and 'pater' respectively, and the result you can read in the story. Because I think Deep City would have many words the rest of Insomnia (and Lucis) wouldn't have, because of their even more extreme seperation from the rest than even Insomnia is from Lucis, I decided to go this route.  
> It won't even be that prevelant until people from above dicover what the heck is going on and in flashbacks concerning Noctis, because there will be instances where they don't understand each other and of misunderstadings because the meaning of certain words has shifted. Some people speak the insomnian form of modern Lucian but not all and even then they have an accent.  
> Why all of this? Because I love languages. ^.^;  
> Tulia is the local and only librarian and woe those who harm her books. She has two assistants and if you need to find a book she's your woman. I took her name from the daughter of Marcus Tullius Cicero who was a famous lawyer and consul during the time of the Roman Republic.
> 
> Next up: Aranea!


	4. Aranea I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea hates General Glauca, but she will do her job as long as she keeps being paid. For now.

_7.28.755 ME_

_Duscae, Lingagh Haven_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

If Aranea hated one task she’d gotten hired for by the Empire more than anything, it was that of a courier for sensitive information. To meet with people she couldn’t stand at remote places and exchange little plastic chips was only topped by overseeing the transport of deamons ‘for research purposes’. If that was what’s actually happening she would eat her lance.

She had let her airship half an hour on foot behind her as not to attract any undue attention. Some parts of Duscae weren’t as firmly in the Empires hands as those pesky nobles and the generals in their pack pockets liked to believe. Snorting scornfully and rather unlady-like Aranea started to half stride half climb up the scarp overgrown with shrubs and the occasional small tree. Biggs and Wedge, the only two people she trusted with her life, followed her without hesitating.

She could see the blue smoke of the haven she was to meet her contact at, meandering lazily into the sky before her eyes ever fell on him. General Glauca stood at the outer edge of the softly glowing protective runes of the Lingagh Haven, barely seen in the midday sun. In spite of the unusual heat he came encased in his full armour, not even a shred of skin in sight. She had never seen his face.

Aranea hated him. In contrast to Tummelt and Uldor, who may both be incompetent idiots but at least looked after their subordinates. The count of dead soldiers and destroyed magitek troops under his command was terrific, but the man was insofar competent that he would carry out his orders down to the last letter, damn the consequences, without fail. She would never admit out loud just how much that scared her.

Coming to a stop at a safe distance, her hand boldly propped against her hip, she looked at him with a smile full of hidden blades. She would let nothing of that fear show or she would have already lost the game and she refused to loose against a man like him. The General looked at her in a mechanic silence standing there on the stone and not quite touching the runes like a lonely monolith the Gods had once forsaken. Biding her time she looked back unflinchingly. She refused to be the one to speak first. The air around the general started to sizzle ominously but she held her silence and just smiled wider, daring him to do anything. Mere seconds ticked by that seemed to last minutes. Cold sweat prickled on her skin. At last General Glauca barely noticeably bend his head in greeting.

“Commodore.”

His voice, distorted like it always was, grated against Araneas ears like stone grinding on metal in an ever looping echo. Just how could he listen to himself when he sounded like this?

Grin growing even wider until all that was left was a grotesque parody full of teeth and victory, she answered: “General.”

Wordlessly Biggs slowly reached into his coat and gave her the case containing the data chip. Better to bring this behind her fast and efficient than dillydallying in the middle of nowhere, even if she couldn’t resist in trying to get a rise out of the man. After all that’s what she was being paid for. Just like she was paid for not knowing what kind of information the chip contained, not that she hadn’t heard something or other she had functioning ears after all. Even, if people seemed to forget that most of the time just because she was a mercenary first and a commodore second. Conveniently she also got paid for keeping her mouth shut about the things she knew so she didn’t say anything. A win-win situation for everyone.

Clearly visible, Aranea held the case in her hands, opened it with the code she had been given and showed Glauca the untouched chip nestled under a thick sheet of protective glass her code couldn’t get passed. The General did the same with his case that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Contemplatively Aranea narrowed her eyes.

Then it was over and she held the new case in her hands. It was absolutely identical to the one she had just given the General. She gave it to Biggs who stashed it under his thick coat she was totally not envious about he could wear in such hot weather. Him and Wedge both.

“By the way, General,” she said offhandedly and turned back around to look at him again, “our adventurous chancellor gallivanted off into the world again. His excellency would like you to point him back to Gralea should you happen to stumble upon him.”

She didn’t care to wait for an answer, her work done, turned back around and marched away the way she came, back straight and head held high. She only dared to release her tense muscles when they were already halfway back to her airship. There was something not right about this guy.

“You alright, Lady A?” came Wedges deep voice from behind her.

She looked around. Nothing but grass, mud and trees in sight. “There is something wrong about Glauca. I just can’t pin down what it is,” she repeated her earlier thoughts.

“He’s giving me the creeps. It’s like staring down a behemoth, a malboro and a bilrost at the same time. Let’s hope we don’t come near him again,” said Biggs with a deep frown on his face.

“I don’t think that can be avoided any time soon. Be glad he’s not in Gralea often enough to scare the pansies there out of their wits, even if they could use it. Biggs, when we get back to the ship I want you to see if you can crack that chip,” said Aranea.

“You sure, Lady A?” asked Biggs, his frown deepening even more.

The corners of her lips curled into a mischievous smile while she tipped herself on the chin. “Very sure. We’ve been paid not to know anything on the chip we delivered to the General, not the one we received from him, after all. I want to know what’s happening. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“The wind’s changing,” was all Wedge said.

The rest of the way back they spent in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Aranea is fun! She really hates Glauca and if she could she would avoid him altogether. Biggs and Wedge are like her brothers and the only two people she truly trusts. I hope she isn't too far off from canon.
> 
> Next up: Ardyn!


	5. Ardyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn meets Noctis and his wife. That meeting takes a turn for the strange right from the start.

_7.28.755 ME_

_Insomnia_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The sun shone warmly down onto the streets and reflected brightly in the windows of the towering buildings made of stone and glass and concrete. It was a nice day in early summer shortly after the Day of Bestowal and on the freshly cleaned walkways moved crowds of smartly dressed men and women while sparkling cars glided through the streets.

Ardyn was sure he was going to puke one of these days seeing this.

He stood in the ever moving crowd, unmoved, unheeded and untouched. Next to him climbed the front of the Spira Bank high into the sky, flanked by buildings no less neat in the neo-classic style. A street further down the illusion of majestic beauty was destroyed by skyscrapers of concrete and metal.

Slowly, with the elegance of a predator on the hunt, he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and looked over to the citadel. It stood there reaching into the heavens, proudly proclaiming the might of the royal house. A true marvel of architectural know-how. As much as Ardyn would have liked to burn the place to the ground, he knew that he would have to wait a while longer. What were a few months longer next to more than two thousand years? Today he wasn’t in Insomnia for that.

With a carefully calculated movement he turned away from the citadel and walked along the modern boulevard held into the air by strong pillars of metal and stone. An amused smile tugged at his lips while his hand moved along the balustrade of the bridge. It would be such a waste to destroy it all. Maybe he should keep some of it standing as a kind of warning. His smile grew cruel. Yes, that would bare thinking of. He reached the stairs to the level underneath and climbed them down.

The difference was clear at once. Everything was in equal parts greyer and much more colourful. The buildings were plain things with dirty walls and there wasn’t a street for cars to drive trough. Instead there were small shops everywhere and stands crowded every available space between the buildings and on the bridges that cast their colourful lights into cool shadows. The people here argued loudly, laughed heartily and no voice seemed to come from someone born in Insomnia.

“Good sir, how about somtheing to eat?” called a merchant in the more guttural island dialect of Galahd and held a skewer in front of him. The meat smelled heavenly.

Ardyn turned to the merchant with a smile on his lips that once upon a time could have been called friendly. Full of satisfaction he saw how the merchant grew pale beneath his tan and shrank half a step back, his friendly smile frozen into a stiff mask.

“It smells marvelous. Truly marvelous. What kind of meat is this, if I may ask? Not chocobo, I hope. Please excuse this truly uncomfortable question, my sir, but with all these rumors going around one cannot be careful enough,” said Ardyn nearly leaning into the merchant’s private space, his face a mockery of friendliness.

For but a second the merchants lips twitched into a truly impressive sneer, his eyes gleaming in aggressive hatred. Ardyn just barely suppressed a grin full of mockery and schadenfreude. It was amusing to see how people reacted. They were so full of hate and disgust that they scarcely noticed how he held a mirror in front of them or how he hid the dagger behind his back with which he would kill them. Not that he would kill the merchant. That would just be bad for business right now.

“This is garula meat of the best grade, good sir. It’s from the plains of Duscae,” the man ground out between clenched teeth.

“Then I will gladly take one of these skewers,” said Ardyn and let two coins fall onto the counter. Visibly reluctant the merchant held out the skewer carefully not touching Ardyns hand. Dark humour flickered in his chest like black fire threatening to spill through his teeth. Everywhere the people were the same. Their little brains just couldn’t comprehend what their oldest instincts already knew from the first time they saw him.

It was hilarious but at the same time a tiny part of him wanted to cry.

He turned around. His growing smirk gained a predatory edge when he heard how the merchant took a relieved breath. Without a care in the world he sauntered off.

That strangely tugging sensation beneath his breastbone pulled him farther down into the ramshackle bowels of this cursed city. The light of his magic throbbed and fizzled in his bones like it hadn’t since he’d last been here while the scourge in his blood fought against it in deafening howls and simmering poison. He took a bite out of the juicy meat and chewed languidly. It tasted like putrid pus and ash.

His way through the city was long but that didn’t matter to him. The deeper he went the more run-down everything became, from the people looking through him as if he wasn’t there to the buildings leaning over the roads empty of cars until he came to a stop at a broken pillar. This still wasn’t his destination but he could feel the border that the pillar signified. There wasn’t anything magical about it. No barriers, no runes, not even a simple blessing, but even then he could feel something. It was a taste in the stale air leaving a metallic film on his tongue, it was old and sluggish and not really there and for all that he couldn’t even begin to grasp it. He stared darkly at the pillar. Deep cracks covered most of the surface that were full of feathers and strange trinkets. Absently he wondered what those were for and what that pillar had once carried, but that didn’t truly matter, did it now? Scornfully shaking his head and pressing his hat deeper into his face he wondered why he didn’t just leave the city. Clearer thoughts were just distracting him from his goals. As if his body was not his own – and in some way it truly wasn’t anymore – he stepped over that strange border and turned left into an alleyway nearly too narrow for his tall form. Next to him on both sides the houses leaned on top of each other like senile old men. If they didn’t they would have come crashing down a while ago.

Just after a few metres he stood on a small stone-flagged terrace, the balustrade only existing as broken off stone and rusted frame joints. It would have been easy to fall to ones death. Unconcernedly the man with the wild hair, red like spilt wine, stepped up to the edge and peeked down. It may have been shortly after midday but here in the forgotten depth twilight reigned absolute. Only a handful of rays of pure sunlight reached the ground and the few street lamps he had seen still standing were not working, but the light was enough to make out a cobbled street below. Wide and straight it lay between old ruins that made something in him echo that had been able to hide from the scourge in his blood, old and tired and hurt as it was.

His mouth pressed into a hard line he turned away and walked towards a staircase that lay half-hidden behind a pile of rubble. A puzzled frown made its way onto his face. That staircase was clearly newer than everything surrounding it. Whatever it was his magic wanted him to find, there were people who knew about it. He scrutinized the first step carefully. It was made out of close knit metallic latticework like many of the pathways in Little Galahd and the refugee district. Very interesting. His knee gave off pain inducing cracks as he stood up and took the first step down with a feeling of finality. This was something unforeseen. The Gods were blind of this place.

The steps were built into the side of a stone wall without any sort of handrail. They shuddered with every step he took leaving even him with a queasy feeling in his stomach. As his feet touched the burst cobbled stone his magic vibrated in his bones, the howl of the scourge a far off whisper he could barely hear anymore. For a few seconds he just stood there and didn’t know what to do.

What in the name of the dawn was going on here?

Something grazed him, soft as a breeze in spring, and made him flinch. Without his doing his white magic surged against the walls of its long lasting prison. A screeching out of thousand different voices echoed in is ears and nearly made him deaf. He stumbled. One more time his white magic rattled at its cage then it was over. Ardyn stood there, out of breath and sweaty, his hands braced against his knees and hoped that whatever just happened hadn’t been felt by all magic sensitive people within the city. The pressure in his chest abated slowly until he could breathe normally again. Determined he stood up, spine and shoulders straight, and wiped his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Whatever had caused this episode, he would find it.

And destroy it.

* * *

 

 Without really watching where he was going his legs carried him to the only house in sight that wasn’t just a lifeless ruin. Blinking he stared at the space where the entrance should have been, instead there was an open annexe made of bricks and corrugated iron that supported the whole front of the house that would otherwise just collapse.

Huh.

Not what he had expected.

Ardyn let his gaze wander over the conglomeration of chairs, the table with its blanket and sanitary paper and the filing cabinets, of which he had a feeling that they were not used to store files in. If he didn’t know any better he would say this was some kind of sick bay. But who would need a sick bay here? There couldn’t seriously be people living down here, could there? It reminded him way too much of… back then. He stepped over the threshold, cleaning his boots on the mat, and entered through the maybe-a-door.

His fingers pressed against the thin sheet of metal that opened without resistance and let the golden twilight spilling out from inside embrace him. He stood in a formerly grand entrance hall. On the floor made of cracked light grey marble stood electric lanterns with some of them hanging from hooks on the wall. The hall was big and would have been even bigger if the annexe hadn’t taken up part of it. There weren’t any ornamental tables with vases and flowers, no paintings in pretentious frames, no curtains, only empty walls whose holes had been filled with rough plastering. On both sides of the halls stood staircases winding down with a gentle slope from an open gallery, from the ceiling hung the rusted chain of a chandelier that was no longer there. From his left he could hear children laughing.

What would be the best way to proceed from here? Ardyns magic and the scourge were curiously silent as if taking a deep breath.

From above he could hear a door opening and for a moment a friendly babble of voices washed over him. Unbidden his heart leaped in his chest. Steps sounded along the gallery and came down the stairs, a male voice humming lowly. Everything in him was ready to jump at a moment’s notice and he couldn’t understand it. He should never have come. He should never have listened to the insisting tugging of his magic. What was he hoping to accomplish here?

The form of a young man walked out of the shadows, he was small with a wiry build and in his hands he carried a tray stacked with dirty dishes. Fine lines decorated his pale skin, from his hands up his arms to his elbows and on his left side further up even touching parts of his cheek and temple.

Suddenly Ardyn felt like he was losing the ground under his feet, as if everything fell away but the figure in front of him. The edges of his field of vision blurred together into a mess of colour and shadows crowding closer and closer and his lungs burned like the first time he had vomited the black sludge that was the scourge back up, back when he had still been a healer and deserved that name. He blinked and stared at the face of the man in front of him, tried to see it more clearly. He must have been wrong. He must have. This was impossible. Lips quivering he opened his mouth to… what? Everything stuck in his throat. Words, air.

Oh.

He couldn’t breathe anymore. His sight fluctuated alarmingly, wobbling more in one, then in the other direction, like on his first voyage to the islands of Accordo. No, even worse. He was going to get violently ill. Instead his gag reflex pressed the last precious bits of air out of his lungs. As if from far away he could hear the sounds of dishes falling on the floor. Had a housemaid been tripped again? Somnus wouldn’t be happy about that. Where was his wife? He needed…

Strong but thin hands prevented Ardyn from fully falling to the ground. His knee pulsed painfully in the same erratic rhythm as his heart. Warm light flowed through his body, the light of his own magic answering enthusiastically but unheard, and suddenly he could breathe again. His lungs burned with each deep breath he took and his eyes teared up as he opened them.

When had he closed them?

By the dawn, this face!

Did the Gods want to torture him again with this? Hadn’t he suffered enough already at their hands? With great effort he lifted his hand to a face of which he expected to crumble to ash and dust the moment he touched it, as it did every time he saw it. This time however, it was different. Trembling fingers touched warm, living skin. His other hand wandered up and came to rest against the young man’s cheek, whose bones should have turned to dust beneath the earth a long, long time ago, and gently guided his forehead to lie against his own. Ardyn could feel his whole body starting to tremble at the realization that this was real, this was really happening. Steadfast he looked into half-forgotten eyes through which emotions flickered too fast for Ardyn to recognize even one of them. It had been too long, way, way too long. He swallowed his mouth dry and his tongue heavier than any chain that had ever held him prisoner yet he still forced it to articulate the words he hadn’t spoken since his brother’s betrayal.

“Jubaris, filius meus.”

Damned be the Gods!

Damn them!

He wasn’t dead! He wasn’t… oh, light of the dawn, Somnus hadn’t…

His son wasn’t dead but here staring at him with wide eyes reflecting shock and alarm. Why was he looking at him like that?

Oh, right. The panic attack. What a way to meet his son again after such a long time. Ardyn felt like that could be excused, he had thought he was dead after all. No use crying over spilt milk. He would gather himself together and speak with Jubaris, after that he could still think about how he wanted to wring that lying dragon’s neck. And Regis’. Because his brother was long dead – and may he suffer in the deepest depths of Pitios itself – Regis would have to do. Easy as that.

Slowly he let go of his sons face and closed his eyes, made himself take deep and calming breaths until he felt like the master of his own senses again after which he sat up, his hand on his sons shoulder, and put his damaged knee in a more comfortable position.

Jubaris helped him to stand up and only then did he notice how small he truly was as Ardyn himself was 190cm tall, which was unusual for a person born when he was. His son was more than a head smaller than him. Concern curled in his gut. Not even his traitorous brother had been that small.

His eyes fell on the dishes lying all over the steps and the floor. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken. His son had always been so orderly and correct, more like his mother in that than his father. Has been. At that thought Ardyns legs threatened to give out again. At once Jubaris was there to support his weight.

“Cave,” _be careful_  murmured Jubaris in a low voice. His accent was strange but Ardyn nodded anyway.

“ _I’m sorry about the dishes. I will replace it if something is broken, so please don’t be upset. You know how your mother never liked it when you got upset over something as trivial as cracked dishes. I wish she was here, I miss her, but I’m truly glad to see you._ ”

Ardyn’s voice gave out, emotions cloying his throat and threatening to take his breath away once more. Jubaris looked at him as if he hadn’t understood a word he just said and lead him away from the stairs and the dishes strewn about with a quiet but firm “Veni” _come_. Had his son always sounded like that? By the light of the dawn, he had forgotten the sound of his only son’s voice. Tears burned in his eyes and blurred his vision.

He let himself be sat into a chair und suddenly he became aware that he wasn’t in the entrance hall anymore, but in a thrown together and hopelessly crammed kitchen that doubled as a dining room. There was an old fashioned hearth that looked like it came out of the time he had been born around and he stared at it until he noticed that Jubaris had gone over to the only other occupant of the room.

It was a slender and willowy woman just a few centimetres taller than Jubaris with midnight black hair that fell down her back in wild curls and beautiful dark green eyes. She wore a shirt that slipped down one shoulder and knee length cargo trousers with a camouflage pattern. Women in trousers. People in trousers. That was something he would never get used to.

He needed an embarrassingly long time to understand that they were talking in modern Lucian and not in one of his and Jubaris’ mother tongues. After all he had been raised on Lucian and Sol both, like all nobles at the time. His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he saw how his son gave that woman a kiss and then rushed out of the room. He made to follow him but the woman gently pressed him back into his seat.

For a moment he was tempted to show her what lurked in his blood, to see the terror growing on her face as he tore her to pieces. It would be great, he thought, to spread her blood on the floor, to watch how it would taint black while her spirit thrashed in pure agony. Then he remembered the kiss, how Jubaris had looked at her and let her be. The painful howling in his mind ebbed away.

She smiled at him warm but cautious – she had good instincts – and set a bowl full of thick stew and a glass of water in front of him.

“Hello. You can call me Hiemi. May I ask you a few questions? “

Perplexed Ardyn stared from the stew to her thin face and took a few measured sips of cool water. Her name didn’t truly fit her, he decided. Her whole being was too warm for a name so cold. If cognomen would still be a thing, she might have been called something like Hestia. Yes, that fit way better. He nodded slowly when he saw her patiently waiting for an answer.

“But of course, my dear.” The words clung to his lips like glue not wanting to be spoken. With her he would be as honest as he could be, he decided, with her and his son, because his son loved her and this was a part of his family he wasn’t prepared or willing to let go. She nodded and her smile widened and, if possible, grew even warmer.

What followed were the standard questions he had expected. What his name was – _Ardyn_ – if he knew where he was – _Insomnia_ – if he knew what day it was _– the 28 th day of the 7th month, two days after the Day of Bestowal_. What had he done before coming here? He was a scholar for ancient history and old magical practices and in the city for one of his research projects. Sadly the archives had disappointed him deeply and had instead followed a hunch and gone looking into the oldest parts of this fascinating city looking for sources.

Was it a bit over the top? Yes. Was it true? Mostly. After all, he was a scholar, he knew about ancient history and old magicks and he was in the city looking for something following a feeling. It wasn’t even a lie that he was disappointed by the archives. Did she believe it? He wasn’t entirely sure, but at least most of it.

In between all of this he had eaten a few bites of the stew. He wished he could judge if it tasted as good as it smelled but every spoonful tasted like ash and bitter smoke and he choked on each bite. Hiemi Hestia gave him a steaming cup of herbal tea with a knowing look. Without acknowledging his bad conscience at the wasted food he pushed the bowl away and twined his fingers around the cup. He could feel the subtle magic in the beverage and bit back an appreciative nod.

A green mage. She was a real find Jubaris could count himself lucky, or had invited Diabolos into his home. With green mages no one could say for sure until all was said and done.

A teenager with unkempt brown hair and a scar under his left eye came into the room in his hands the tray with the dishes Jubaris had dropped to help him. The boy set it down next to a wash-tub and nervously and curiously peered over at Ardyn. Was it the way he looked?

He hid an amused grin behind his teacup whose calming magic and warmth he greedily soaked up. He didn’t know what would happen should he straight up drink it but even like this a nice green haze laid itself over the poisonous seething thing inside of him. It made him nearly feel like a normal human being again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the last chapter set on this day! I'm truly sorry, but things just kept piling up that just had to happen right at the start. -.-
> 
> In this story Latin equals ancient Lucian so there will be snippets of that floating around because Ardyn is straight up ancient and it's his mother tongue. Sol is the language of Solheim an when it's spoken it will be written in full italics because the only equivalent I could think of is something like ancient Greece or Babylonian. As I speak neither of those and I don't want to confuse everybody with my obsession with languages I decided upon that approach.   
> For me Lucis, or more exact the Cavaugh region, was a colony of Solheim before its fall and the Lucis Caelums were Solheimr nobility until they got disgraced, settled down in Cavaugh and changed their name to Lucis Caelum to blend in a bit better. That's why Ardyn grew up bi-lingual and also raised his son as such. Ardyn himself is from maybe the third generation after the fall of Solheim.  
> And yes, I know about Aera and the canon backstory, but I first wrote this fic long before Episode Ardyn was even announced, so I will be largely ignoring that, baring a few details and Ardyns power set. So he had a wife and children because he was 33 when shit went down and people back then married young. The only name I have truly decided upon right now is that of his son, who's named Jubaris, which is Latin and means 'first light of day' or 'lightsource' because that's what he is for Ardyn.
> 
> Next up: Another quick glance into the past with Noctis!


	6. Noctis III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Princes first act of magic. It's not what it's supposed to be and that is... not good.

_9.24.743 ME_

_Insomnia, The Citadel_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The magic floated around Noctis like a golden universe. Spheres of light spinning around each other in a slow and graceful dance with a rhythm all of their own, only interrupted by little violet sparks that, when colliding with one of the golden spheres, made them burst in a beautiful shower of light and scatter like fireflies.

It was so, so beautiful. Noctis felt inordinately proud of it.

It was also not at all what he had intended to do.

Some time ago, when he had started his magical training, the first spell he had been supposed to learn was supposed to produce little sparks the colour of his magic.

“To measure your potential”, his father had said and winked, “but truthfully it is just for fun.”

He had been so excited. It had been his father giving him his first lesson, as was tradition, and he had failed miserably. Noctis may have been only six at the time, but he had seen his father’s disappointment. For the first time in a while he had been reduced to tears.

Now, at barely seven - his birthday had been exactly three weeks and four days ago - he was older, a bit wiser, and still couldn’t do the sparks all of his ancestors had mastered in a single lesson.

But apparently he could do this. Whatever this was. The wonder brought tears to his eyes. Before he knew it, he was at the center of this wonderful golden universe, crying tears of relief.

His first instinct, after he couldn’t cry anymore, was to go to his father. Showing him, that his son was not an inept - whatever that was couldn’t be good - that he could do magic. Just like anybody else in his family. Something in his gut twisted sharply. It did not feel so unlike the time he had first tried to reach for his magic and grasped at nothing but emptiness and wisps of a warning in his blood. Those were not the sparks he was supposed to make and his father was busy anyway. Always, always so busy. And he wasn’t supposed to train magic without adult supervision, because apparently you could get hurt doing it wrong.

Noctis frowned. This didn’t hurt there was nothing on fire, frozen or e-lec-tro-duced. He must be doing something right then.

Small fingers reached out to touch a golden orb lazily spinning within reach and cradled it carefully against his chest. It felt so warm, like the summer sun on his skin, and safe, like a protective embrace or being cradled under a slew of blankets, and pulsed in the rhythm of his own heart. It felt so different to his father’s magic that felt like sharp edges turned outward, broken shards of glass and the sensation of slowly draining water.

A childish giggle escaped his lips but he didn’t care too caught up in the feel and glow of hi magic. This was his and his alone and no one could take it from him.

* * *

 

That evening, when his father came to wish him a good night, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them: “Dad, why is magic supposed to be blue?”

His father blinked, maybe as surprised as he was at the words, and sat down in the edge of his bed.

“In our family black magic is the most prevalent - the most common. When cast without an element it has a blue colour.”

“So there are other colours? Even in our family? What are they? Do they mean anything?”

Noctis couldn’t really contain his excitement. He reached for the light inside of him that had taken him so long to find, flowing like calming water in his bones, prepared to show his father what he had managed to do today despite the strange feeling in his stomach. He could already see his father’s proud smile. His magic lessons would finally continue and-

“Yes,” said his father and something in his tone made his grip on his magic falter. “But Noctis, it is… not good for us to have anything other than black magic.”

“What? Why?” he asked, the feeling in his stomach growing worse by the second.

“That is a story best told when you are older, but the last time a Lucis Caelum was not a black mage - did not have the blue coloured magic - very bad things happened.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“Noctis-”

“Dad,” he did not whine. He needed to know. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. What if he was cursed like in the fairy tales?

His father sighed. “It was a very long time ago back when the monarchs of Lucis usually had more than one child. There was a prince with magic that was said to have been red. He was still able to use black magic like any other member of his family, mind, but could also do other things. I cannot tell you what those things were for they have been lost to time, but he died when he tried to do one of his tricks and collapsed the buildings he was near. Many people died that day.”

Oh.

Would that also happen to him? But his magic wasn’t red. It wasn’t. It was gold like the morning sun. He swallowed. Suddenly he wished with all his heart that his magic would be blue like it was apparently supposed to be.

“Don’t worry Noctis. Like I said, it was a very long time ago and hasn’t happened since. You will be fine and able to do your own magic soon enough.”

“Okay”, said Noctis, not quite able to meet his father’s eyes. He didn’t look at him because then he would start to cry and he would tell his father. He would and he couldn’t. Every fiber of his being told him that he couldn’t. So he bit hard on his own tongue to keep it still and stared down on his blanket.

“Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day and you can try again.”

His father’s beard scratched as he kissed his forehead. Noctis smiled despite his troubled feelings. Large hands arranged the blankets around him.

“Good night dad.”

“Good night, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out rather short and I had most of it written down already, so new update :)  
> First glimps into why exactly anything other than black magic is Not Good for a Lucis Caelum. There is more to it, much more than Regis is telling Noctis, but Noctis is just seven in this chapter and even Regis doesn't know all. It will be revealed in future chapters so look forward to that!  
> I headcanon Noctis as actually being rather sensitive to magic so he will know what other kinds feel like. To him black magic feels like sharp edges. I have a whole system worked out concerning this that I want to work into the story.  
> What happened to the Lucis Cealums that didn't have black magic is one of the truly dark spots in their family history and I will warn about it at the beginning of the chapter it will be brought up in.
> 
> Next up: Ardyn again!


	7. Ardyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Ardyn has a nightmare, stress bakes and goes shopping. (Noctis is never going to go shopping with Ardyn ever again.) Gammer is her usual strange self.  
> Warning for gore, child murder and horror.

_7.29.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

_The world was black. It cast waves as if it was made from the darkest waters of the deep sea and Ardyn stood at the very edge; so close that he only needed to reach out with a scarred hand to touch it. Everything was cold and black. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs, not even his own heartbeat. A drop fell into the blackness and the world rippled._

_Behind him sounded a metallic rattle, a sound that made every hair on Ardyns body stand up in horror. Feeling absolutely helpless and unable to do anything he turned around, pressing his hands against his ears. Beneath his feet there was naked rock, it was a floor he knew all too well. He staggered. The rattling of chains was growing closer, the sound resonating painfully within his scars. Somewhere a drop of water fell down and a raspy breath echoed within the stone._

No. No.

_He wanted to scream but the sounds clogged within his throat refusing to come out as if someone pressed down on his voice box. Something black crept across age old stone. It gathered around his feet in a puddle until it reached his ankles. Disgust curled deep in his gut. Suddenly something icy and cold grabbed his ankle and pulled him down._

_Ardyn fell through water. He struggled to get away from the thing pulling him deeper and deeper into sightless depths but it was useless. It held him like a vice, even grabbed his already destroyed knee. The ground met him hard and the world spun around him until he could get air back into his lungs once more. Gasping for breath he laid there and didn’t dare to move. The earth smelled of life and sunlight and lush grass prickled beneath his hands. He turned on his back and stared at the grey sky above, framed by dancing wheat stalks. Ankle and knee hurt so bad he nearly threw up when he jostled them._

_Resigned he fought his heavy body to sit up, long purplish red hair fell into his eyes and around his face. Ardyn knew where he was. He knew what would happen now. His heart burned, his blood rushed loudly in his ears and his light – his white magic – churned in his bones like a maelstrom of the Tide Mothers making._

_There he was._

_A nightmare even in his waking moments._

_Just a few steps away from him stood Somnus clad in the garb of a king of yore, a smug grin marring the classic Lucian features he had inherited from their father. It seemed unnaturally wide. Was he imagining it? The sword in his hands belonged to Ardyn and was full of blood._

Somnus!

_Ardyn wanted to scream, wanted to rage, to lunge at his traitorous brother but his knee had been shattered. He couldn’t do more but lean on his arms and whimper pitifully. A drop of blood, glimmering like a dark ruby, fell from the sword and onto the ground. The earth began to boil. Steaming and seething it formed a body that lay motionless at Somnus’ feet. It was small, the form of a boy that had not yet seen his 12 th summer. Frozen Ardyn stared at the body his younger brother carelessly kicked to the side._

_It was Jubaris._

_With lifeless eyes he stared at his father. No, no, no! That couldn’t be. Desperately closing his eyes, Ardyn shook his head. Jubaris wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Ardyn had sent him away, him and his mother. With great effort he forced himself to look again._

_The corpses face was so mutilated that it wasn’t recognizable anymore. Shredded skin covered in bits of hair hung like rags from the skull, the cheekbones were a shattered and bloody mass and the nose was missing entirely. Was it the right skin tone? Was it? Ardyn couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember and that realization alone was nearly enough to throw him into hysterics. The corpse was dressed in Jubaris’ tunics. Desperate Ardyn threw himself forward ignoring the screeching pain in his knee and was yanked back by chains that bit down to his bone. He landed hard on the fertile soil. No, there were no chains but countless hands, bony, emaciated and marked with the starscourge. Empty eye sockets stared accusingly at him. Black oozing maws cried with a thousand voices._

Save us! Child of Dawn, save us! Oh, cursed light of the sun!

_Ardyn tried to free himself of their grip, he had to see if that dead body was indeed his beloved son, but it was useless._

_Let me go. Please! I beg you. I cannot help you, not anymore. My son! Let me see my son!_

_Unrelenting sharp nails dug into his skin and tore his flesh open. Black blood oozed out of the wounds. Half mad with pain he began to scream. It started to rain. Black drops burned like poison on his skin and melted Somnus and the dead boy as if they were nothing more than wax melting in the flame of a candle. Everywhere, where the water touched the ground, new figures rose all mangled by the starscourge. Spindly limbs and twisted bodies. Slowly the nightmarish mass crawled towards him, incessantly begging for a relief he could not give them. They threatened to choke him._

_Suddenly there was light but it was weak and far away. With the last smidges of strength left to him he crawled towards it. Ardyn could see a hand, thin and elegant, the hand of a woman. She was surrounded by light. He reached for her…_

_And fell into darkness._  

* * *

 

In cold sweat Ardyn startled awake, his breathing labored and his heart running a mile a minute. That… had been unexpected. His mouth twisted into a hard grimace. Long had it been since he dreamed of this, or dreamed at all. His knee pulsed painfully in a phantom pain he had longs since gotten used to.

Was it Jubaris? Possibly.

It was never without consequence to rip open wounds that had never truly healed. With one hand he wiped his wild red hair out of his face while he felt for the electric lantern next to his bed with the other. Darkness and he were old friends but he preferred a light.

Heh. Such irony.

In the new golden light the room that Hiemi and Jubaris – _the people call me Healer_ – had given him to use seemed even drearier than yesterday. He could see thin cracks in the floor filled with… something and covered with ratty carpets and the walls were bare. The stucco and moulding on the ceiling were halfway to crumbling down entirely and the metal bedframe squeaked every time he shifted his weight. Ardyn found it truly astonishing that he had been able to sleep, but then on the other hand he was used to much more terrible accommodations.

_Chains dug under his skin, kept him suspended in the air. If he just could lower his arms maybe his airways wouldn’t clog up. Only a little bit…_

His joints cracked in a mildly painful crunch as he stood up and went to the chair, where he left his clothes the night before. He pulled on his trousers and pleated shirt, one of his scarves and his fingerless gloves before he left the surprisingly large room and went down into the kitchen. Ardyn had no idea how late – or rather how early – it was, but thankfully the whole house seemed to be sleeping still.

Not caring to suppress the low groan making its way up his throat he sat down near the old hearth and regretted instantly that he had left his coat upstairs. Coldness flowed in his blood. The embers smoldered weakly and nearly cold. Ardyn fought himself back on his feet and threw a few pellets into the ash, only to take them out again. If he did this he could also do it right. Less to clean for dear Hiemi Hestia later.

It didn’t take him long to clean the hearth and put the pellets back in. For a few moments he looked for something to light a fire with without kindling but every lighter in the pile he found was empty so he threw the weakest fire spell he could manage into the hearth. It was no use to freeze his ass off. He dragged a chair as near to the fire as he dared and stared sightlessly into the flickering flames.

_See where you are now, dear brother, nothing more than a monster that belongs into the dark. You will never see the light of day again. The Gods have decreed it._

Ardyn tore his mind away from a voice he never wanted to hear again in his endless life and started to pace, his uneven steps making hollow noises in the cluttered kitchen. He had to do something, anything, before he started to tumble down the abyss of his own memories, like it had happened so often during his imprisonment. No, he couldn’t risk that again.

A bowl of nuts balanced on a stack of books between cans full of tealeaves, a knife block and a camping cooker, the kind his mother had loved. The thought came sudden and unbidden and before he knew it he had found a mortar and started to grind them into flour. He had no idea what he was doing but it stopped him from remembering the rattling echo of chains within eroding stone walls. The resulting dough didn’t quite look right but it seemed edible and that was enough.

“Ardyn? What are you doing?”

Startled he nearly let the heavy cast-iron pan drop. Had he really been so careless? In the doorway stood Jubaris, his long hair as unkempt as Ardyns own, in the same clothes as yesterday and looked at him puzzled.

“Ah. A wonderful morning to you as well dear boy. Isn’t it obvious? I’m baking,” shot Ardyn back and waved at a growing pile of flatbread cooling on the kitchen table in an exaggerated gesture.

Jubaris stared at the bread with wide eyes. “But why?” he asked more to himself than Ardyn and made his way to the electric kettle next to a stack of empty jars. Every now and then he glanced over at Ardyn who acted like he was solely concentrated on the pan and the baking bread within.

“Do I need a reason to do it?” Well, he had one, not that he would tell his son that.

“It is way too early in the morning for this,” groaned Jubaris and poured himself a strong smelling cup of black tea. The young man looked at him and pointed at the kettle in a silent question. Grinning Ardyn shook his head. His son shrugged and shuffled over to the table where he eyed the flatbread again.

“You can take one if you want to, you know. They won’t bite you. I would rather say it’s the other way around,” said Ardyn and chuckled, sounding dangerously close to mockery, while he came over with the pan and disposed the last breads on the pile.

Jubaris eyed the steaming pile for a few heartbeats longer and then started to nibble at one, confusing Ardyn with his actions. His son had grown up eating these nearly every day at times, why was he now acting like he didn’t know what he was eating? As fast as the thought flittered through his mind, it was gone again. A self-satisfied grin crept onto his face as he saw how his boy’s eyes widened before he started to eat in earnest. He sat the pan down in the wash-tub and threw another pellet into the fire that had nearly burned itself out by then.

“You know that it’s summer, right?” murmured Jubaris between bites.

Ardyn blinked. He was still cold, even if it had gotten better. „I don’t know what you mean, dear boy,” he snapped. Since that crazy scientist had taken – he refused to acknowledge it as a rescue – him out of his cell he carried that coldness like a veil draped around his shoulders never to be taken off.

For a moment the younger of the two looked like he wanted to retort something but then he only shook his head and ate the rest of his flatbread in silence. Despite the heat permeating the kitchen Jubaris drank his tea in two great gulps and dumped the rest into a tub for wasted water. Ardyn couldn’t get enough of it. He had forgotten so much. The form of his son’s cheekbones, the remarkable colour of his eyes, the way he stared at him like he couldn’t believe that he was related to the older man. Without a care Ardyn grinned, still staring and Jubaris looked away.

“Come,” he said at last. “If we want to get everything done before midday we need to get going.”

“Oh? And where must we go so early on this fine morning, if I may ask?”

Jubaris’ grin was mischievous. It was so much like his own that his heart stopped for a moment. The last time he had seen him he had still been so young.

“I think you might like it,” he said and walked out the door.

* * *

 

The boy was right. It was a lively market that had made a place for itself on old unused bridges, protected from the views from above through countless baldachins, canopies and tiny roofs of anything a person could get their hands on. The overseers in their red hats saw his outlandish clothing and his not so traditional colouring and eyed him in deep seeded distrust. They visibly wanted to stop him but his company seemed to be a good enough deterrent. With a grin that showed too many teeth to be anything but a challenge and provocation he greeted them with theatrical waves and followed Jubaris into the crowds.

If one was to believe the obviously handmade clock hanging above a stand selling repaired electronics, it was barely even pass dawn but is was already as busy as on market days in Altissia. Everywhere hung glowing lantern like floating stars from long ropes and poles, chasing the darkness away with their colourful lights. One stall glowed like a small supernova.

Puzzled he observed how the people around them stepped out of Jubaris’ way once they saw him as if it was perfectly natural. His son was dressed as inconspicuous as they come, better than some and worse than others, and was – sadly – small enough to be easily looked over in the throng of people. Some people looked at him with admiration and a devotion that reminded him uncomfortably of his early days, but they kept their distance and whispered among themselves. Jubaris didn’t seem to notice and if it hadn’t been for the tense muscles in his shoulders and his arms Ardyn would have believed it. This was interesting. Really interesting. Maybe… no, he would observe a while longer before making a decision, good fortune comes for the patient after all. Also, this was way better than having to listen to Besithia rave about his precious projects and the power of knowledge. That guy had lost his humour somewhere on his road to madness. What a pity.

They climbed a long ladder made of sturdy metal and avoided three levels of the lively market. The sign at the end named the bridge the Silkarch. One of the overseers stood next to it and eyed the moving crowds around him. The difference was startling. For a second he thought he was back during the time before Bahamut had ruined his life. Most of the people walking between the booths on the wide bridge wore colourful tunics in all shapes and sizes and here and there he could glimpse something that looked vaguely like a toga if he closed one eye and squinted sideways. Then the breath of magic and time was over and a deep seeded feeling of all consuming rage rushed through his veins echoed and reinforced by the scourge in his blood.

“Ardyn! Did you fall asleep or what? Get a move on old man.”

It was his son – may the light of the dawn bless him – that saved the city from a very bloody massacre at this very moment. Indignant Ardyn wrinkled his nose. “Let it be said, young man, that I have never had a grey hair in my entire life.”

“You sure?” asked Jubaris and squinted at Ardyns wild wine red hair.

“I beg your pardon!”

Jubaris laughed quietly and motioned Ardyn to follow him. With an undeniably fond expression he walked after him down the bridge. Looking around in curiosity he noticed that the differences weren’t that great. The lights were still the same, so were the thrown together stalls that looked like someone had willfully taken parts out of different building kits and thrown them together without looking, but the baldachins weren’t carpets and tapestries anymore but rather different material webs made of thick cloth in all colours imaginable. Jubaris stood by the stand of a young merchant couple and looked over their wares. It didn’t take long until he pulled a T-Shirt out of a messy pile of clothes and held it critically against Ardnys torso. It was clearly too small.

An eyebrow shot up. “What exactly are you doing, my boy?”

Exasperated Jubaris looked up at him and tossed the T-Shirt back on the pile. “Isn’t it obvious? You can’t want to run around with the same clothes all day every day. That’s just gross. Better to take care of it now, than wait and have you running around naked because nothing we have back at the clinic fits you.”

Before Ardyn could really think to say something a tunic was tossed at his head. Befuddled he stood there and looked over the ochre coloured fabric, a simple geometric pattern climbed the right side from the hemline up to the chest, and otherwise it was just a simple summer tunic without sleeves that would reach his thigh.

“This is your wardrobe we’re here for you know. If you won’t help I’ll do it and I’ve been told multiple times by now that my colour coordination skills are utter crap. Now, see if that fits you.”

A pair of trousers landed in his arms and Ardyn had to ask himself how Jubaris planned to pay for it all. The clinics upkeep could not be cheap even if he had seen the people pay for his son’s services more in books and foodstuffs than anything else. Ardyn was so unspeakably proud of the boy even if the child was acting strange around him. Then again, it had been long over two thousand years since they had last seen each other and he himself had no idea how he should best breach that topic.

In the meantime Jubaris had started to talk with the young couple manning this stand. Their wide eyed gazes when they looked at his son were truly amusing especially with how twitchy he got. Maybe he should help? He didn’t think Jubaris would appreciate it much right now, so he sighed and looked closer at the trousers in his hands. They were a light blue and made from this denim that he didn’t like and found uncomfortable. Carelessly tossing them at another pile of jeans he started to take a closer look at the wares.

Ardyn found enough to wear to say the least. If he had to he could make do with pretty much anything but Jubaris seemed to have given him a blanco-check concerning this and he took full advantage of it. The only thing he struggled with was the trousers. Jeans were out of the question as was anything shorter than ankle length. In this instance he kind of missed the time he only had to pull a long tunic over his head and be done with it. In the end his son gave up and Ardyn walked away from it all with three pairs of work trousers made of sturdy cloth and reinforced knee regions and a few simpler ones made of cloth and cord.

Then he found the scarves.

Disbelieving Jubaris stared at the huge stack of clothing the young woman bundled up into packs that were easier to carry. “I’ll never go with you to the Silkarch again,” he muttered.

“Should I have mentioned that I – how should I put it? – am a bit… peculiar when it comes to clothes? On the other hand you could have told me that we were here to buy clothes from the start. I could have warned you then.”

“Peculiar,” repeated the younger in a toneless voice. “Next time you’re going alone.”

Next time? Oho, interesting. Should Ardyn cackle? After all, he was supposed to be the villain in this.

With a sigh Jubaris took two of the tightly packed bundles and rummaged in the depths of his antique military coat for a package of tea herbs Ardyn had seen drying in the kitchen and a piece of string from which hung a small shard of metal and gave it to the merchant who thanked him profusely and dipped into a bow of deep respect. He frowned. That shard was so full of Jubaris’ magic that it gleamed a violet-gold in the light of the lanterns.

Strange. He had noticed before that his son’s magic had a different colour than before the… _incident_. Maybe he should keep a closer eye on this development.

“Come. We have to hurry if we don’t want to be late.”

In swift steps they hurried down a set of clanking metal stairs that were only suspended by a set of steel ropes anchored into the bridge directly over their heads to one of the bridges slanting below. Directly next to it was a ladder they climbed down and then stood upon another bridge that stood very close to the tall stone wall. The smell of spices and freshly baked goods covered the stink of human sweat and other things pleasantly. Shortly before the half-way point they stepped into a small niche and stood before an old movable oven.

The old woman that was handling a baking sheet fresh out of the oven looked up and pointed one of her gnarly fingers first at Jubaris then at him. What she said made his breath stutter behind his teeth. “You are nearly late, laddy. Time is precious but you will have enough if you know how to use it. And you, seeker of vengeance, should have come the first time you stepped into the boundary of this city instead of cursing the God of War. Hot air won’t impress a dragon.”

His body went numb. Something prickled under the skin of his face but when he touched his cheek there was nothing there. Ardyn stared at the old woman with burning eyes, reached out with a spark of his magic. She was a normal human being, a simple old woman that would grow even older before she would leave this world behind, but still…

The flickering fires of the oven made her wrinkles into deep craters dancing over her face. Wood cracked and sparks flew. Her eyes were a deep brown.

Ardyn flinched. Something had just happened. He glanced at Jubaris but he just took a paperbag and a square box from her with murmured apologies.

“What…?”

Words escaped him. His mouth was dry like the old deserts around the Vogliupe region and blood roared in his ears. The scourge was strangley still and silent. Waiting, lurking. He didn’t like it at all. She turned towards him and patted hi cheek. She had to stand on her toes to do it. Her touch burned like fire but he forced himself to stay still.

“Your thirst for blood does not reach as deep as you may believe but it is still great enough to consume everything if you’re not careful. The fires may aid you but they may burn you just as easily until nothing is left of you but an empty shell filled with cold ash,” she whispered so that only he could hear it.

The burn of her touch spread until it wandered through his body until it scorched his bones. His white magic, this wounded flickering light that was slowly dying even now rose from a few sparks into a steady flickering.

Oh.

_Oh, by the dawn._

_Whisperer of Flames. Priestess of Ifrit._

She cackled.

“Gammer?” asked Jubaris carefully.

“Time,” she said. “Time that we dearly need but we do not have. Don’t be late Healer-of-the-people.”

“Damn,” cursed his son. He tossed a small and wrapped package onto her scratched counter and waved Ardyn to follow him again. “Thank you. Until tomorrow.”

They walked in silence until the market was well behind them. While they were walking through ancient narrow streets the younger turned towards the older. His violet eyes were full of worry.

“Is everything all right?”

Ardyn was a bit too fast in waving it aside. “I just didn’t expect to see someone like her here. It is not every day you meet a – hm, what is the right term for it? Ah, yes. A Whisperer of Flames. They have always been an elusive bunch, shall we say.”

Jubaris looked at him with an expression Ardyn couldn’t quite discern. “Gammer is… strange. She always had the tendency to be right about those things. But, Ardyn-” He swallowed nervously and Ardyn wondered what would come now. “I won’t ask, but if – if you ever need somebody to talk to or listen I’m here, okay? I just want you to know that. I know what it’s like to have your whole life upheaved because of… _Him_ , so- What I’m trying to say is I understand and if you need help I’m here and Hiemi too.”

Ardyn had no idea what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. This hadn’t been supposed to happen. All of this. He had just wanted for this insistent tugging on his magic to go away. Well, it was gone now. He simply plastered a smile on his face that tasted like poison and continued to walk with the awkward silence hanging between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just got longer and longer. Meh.  
> Also more backround on Ardyn! I tweaked a few things to be closer to canon, but most of it will be AU.  
> Ardyn calls Noctis Jubaris in his head because he believes he is his son. He obviously isn't but Ardyn doen't want to acknowledge that. Still, he didn't call him Jubaris out loud again since he first saw him. Noctis doesn't really know how to deal with the guy who thinks is his father, so he doesn't. Ardyn himself has no idea how to deal with this. This is so not blowing up in their faces. Nope, not at all.  
> Normaly Ardyn would walk all over people, egg them in just for the fun of it, but since he thinks this is his son (he doesn't want to think about the fact that that is impossible because he doesn't want it to be) he tries to be nicer.  
> What really happened to his son? Who knows.  
> The whole priest(ess) of Ifrit (or any Astral, really) thing will be touched upon in later chapters. You cannot tell me that a society that so obviously believes in their dietys, dietys they can also see, have no priesthoods and religous sects. But for most people that know her Gammer is just that crazy old lady that listens to fires and spouts scary shit.
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	8. Noctis IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis' adopted daughter has a birthday party! Ardyn gets volunteered for a job at a dig site because he knows history. Gotta keep that man from being bored if you want to keep the world intact after all.  
> Warning: Injury of a child.

_7.29.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

It had been supposed to be a quiet celebration just like last year. Noctis should have known it wasn’t going to go this way, not with Solaris finally making friends, the patients in the clinic already there and in the know and the open door policy they practiced. The kitchen was full of people laughing and talking with children running between them and it all spilled out into the backyard. Someone had managed to get the record player to work and now some singer from around a hundred years ago sung something about the green of nature to a lively beat.

At least everybody that came remembered to congratulate Solaris for her birthday.

Noctis stood there leaning against the door frame and soaked in the festive atmosphere while he observed his daughter, that danced between the adults in her new dress, her best friend Vox always just a step behind her, with a smile. She took the boy by the hand and tried to twirl him to the music much to the amusement of those watching them. Laughing they stumbled over their own feet but kept trying to twirl each other around. A few of the adults dragged the huge table against the wall and started to dance themselves in a flurry of improvised and often times ridiculous steps. Sooner or later this would end in the traditional circle dances, Noctis knew. It always did.

From outside wafted the mouthwatering smell of grilled meat inside paired with the high pitched screaming of children at play. From the corner of his eyes he saw his wife stepping up to him, a breathtaking smile on her face. She pressed herself against his side, an arm wound around his waist.

“Do you have enough of the pack of tussling children trying to take apart your garden?” he asked impishly while never letting his daughter, that had managed to convince other children into her dance and now they were all holding hands and jumping around in a big circle, out of sight.

“I swear, Astra will become their ring leader sooner or later and he’s only three.” She glanced at him from behind dark lashes.

“Well, he didn’t get that from me,” said Noctis and checked his hip against hers with a playful smile.

“But from me, yes?” grinned Hiemi right back and at once bit herself on the lips, a guilty expression on her face. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them and Noctis feverishly tried not to remember that woman. He wanted to say something, wanted to assure Hiemi that it was all right, she did nothing wrong and it was not her fault, but the words just didn’t want to come as much as he wanted them to.

“You should teach her how to dance. She looks like she enjoys it,” said Hiemi at least and looked over at Solaris.

Noctis relaxed his posture. He hadn’t even realized that he had tensed up. Just as he thought that he had finally gotten over it, he thought ruefully. They should talk about it, just… not now. Not at their daughter’s birthday party. “Maybe I should. And get Vox involved, too, don’t you think?”

He didn’t quite smile, but Noctis hoped Hiemi could see that it was all right. Carefully extracting himself from her side he dipped into a deep bow his etiquette tutors would have been proud of and offered her his arm. “May I ask for the honour of this dance, my lady?”

Himei laughed loud and clear and deftly took his arm. “Why of course, my good sir.”

They walked onto the improvised dance floor as if they were prince and princess on a royal ball all the while giggling like school children. Noctis took the starting position with the elegance of a person who had been learning to dance since he was six years old and his wife did the same, if with a bit more of an awkward air around her – some dances had just never made it down into Deep City – but her smile was bright and her whole being vibrated with positive energy. Their magic touched in that intimate way that was wholly theirs, green mist and violet-golden light, and with the next beat they started to practically glide over the floor. By the light of the sun, he did love this woman. The music twirled around them like wind blowing through silky curtains before the next song played with a slower melody. For a moment Noctis closed his eyes, his cheek laid against his wives. Her locks were slightly coarse against his skin and smelled comfortingly of rosemary, lavender and cool shadows.

Quiet giggling made them look up. Not far from them stood Solaris and Vox glancing every so often in their direction. Small hands fluttered between them in elaborate gestures, followed by more giggling. Noctis lifted an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Hiemi who shrugged. Then the song ended and they stepped up to the two children.

“What are you two whispering over there?” asked Hiemi in a playful tone.

Both of them flinched in surprise. “Nothing!” yelled Solaris while Vox wildly shook his head, hands fluttering and eyes wide with an innocent look on his face. Noctis didn’t believe a word of it.

“So? It must have been interesting though, much more interesting than cake.”

The children’s eyes grew large. “Cake?”

“Of course. Your tata got up extra early today to get it just for you.”

Noctis forced himself not to roll his eyes. Hiemi had practically kicked him out of the bed this morning. She knew exactly how much he hated to get up earlier than he absolutely had to, but he would, especially for his daughter. Then there was also Ardyn who they had decided last night would stay for the time being. There was something… not right with him and until they knew what it was he would stay, but this also meant going shopping for him, which meant clothes shopping and Noctis absolutely detested clothes shopping. At last he hadn’t had to wake the older man up. Instead he had found him in the kitchen baking. That had been an unexpected but welcome surprise in the face of Solaris’ birthday. The little girl clapped her hands in joy and threw herself into a hug. Her thin arms were surprisingly powerful while trying to press every little breath of air out of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you tata! I love you so, so much.”

He leaned down as far as her hug would allow and lovingly pressed a kiss on her untamable reddish brown hair. “I love you, too, my sun.”

She grinned a grin so wide it nearly seemed to split her face in two and glowed like her namesake. “I’ll go get the others,” she called and ran out into the backyard, Vox right behind her.

Amused the parents looked at each other and Hiemi gave Noctis a soft kiss on the lips. “I will go get that cake, then,” she said and stepped out of the kitchen only to come back shortly thereafter with an adventure of cornflakes and banana dough decorated in cherries and crumbles. It looked like a failed experiment. Hiemi only just managed to light all eight candles atop of it before the children flooded into the kitchen loudly demanding cake and followed by Lily who didn’t take her eyes of the rambunctious group.

“Thank you for helping out with the children today. I don’t know how Hiemi and I would have managed all of this alone,” said Noctis and watched how said children admired the masterpiece of baking prowess with the older woman next to him. She smiled and wiped a few erratic strands of hair out of her face.

“It’s no problem. I would rather look after those brats than entertain the adults. Besides I think Hiemi will be glad to hear that her compost heap has stayed largely untouched.”

“That’s good to hear. I was starting to get nightmares thinking about it. Say, how is your family doing? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“You know how they are, all stubborn garulas in a territory dispute, but Casto has finally convinced Fodio to let him help at that digging site. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it but they found some really old tunnels and are now looking for people with the know how to categorize them. History has never been my husband’s strong suite, I fear.”

Noctis hummed thoughtfully. Meanwhile Hiemi had gathered all guests around the table to sing Solaris a little song. He found Ardyn leaning against the frame of the kitchen door, largely out of the way but still present like Solaris had asked of him, his head tilted like that of a curious predator. Since they had come back from the Shadow Market he had acted strange. Not that he could really say anything about it, he knew the other man for barely a day, but even so he hoped that Gammer had not spooked him too much. He wondered what she had whispered into his ear this morning but shook his head. As much as it might interest him, it wasn’t any of his business. In the crowd Solaris’ eyes gleamed in joy as she blew out the candles under loud whistles and applause. He saw Tulia next to Hiemi ready to help with the plates. Noctis was unspeakably proud of this girl he had found on this day two years ago.

“Sallust is the obvious choice. He will be there if you want him to be or not, but you could also ask Ardyn. He said he’s a scholar specializing in ancient history, so he should be able to help.”

“Ardyn?” asked Lily.

Noctis nodded over to the door. She blinked. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“He showed up just yesterday and is staying for the foreseeable future.”

Lily looked at him for a few moments. His hair had more of a purple hue than normal in the shadows of the doorway and his golden eyes had a similar glow to his own. “Is there… something wrong with him?”

Noctis hesitated. There was something wrong with the older man, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had seen it before, just not like this, he knew. “I have no idea,” he admitted at last.

“Really?” asked Lily, disbelieve clear in her voice.

“Really.”

“Huh.”

They stood there for a moment in companionable silence before Noctis started to speak again: “Go on, talk to him if you want to and I know you do. It would do him good to go out and actually do something and not sit around here all day, I think.”

“You sure? You yourself could use a few more helping hands what with how things are and all.”

“Pretty sure. I get the feeling he will go snooping around if he is cooped up here for too long. Better we know where he is when he is out.”

Lily nodded. “Okay, if you say so.” With that she smiled at him in parting and walked over. Ardyn watched her with an unreadable look in his eyes, before his lips crinkled into an insincere smile. Noctis didn’t see anymore because he noticed a familiar mob of black hair moving in the dispersing crowd. Astra’s face, crunched up in deep concentration, lit up when he saw his father. In his hands he balanced a plate upon which laid a thin slice of cake. He grinned proudly as Noctis sat down on the nearest chair against the wall and lifted him on his lap.

“Look, tata. Mati gived me cake,” said the little boy with ha huge smile on his face.

“I see, little star, and it’s ‘gave’ not ‘gived’.”

Noctis pressed a kiss against his hair like he had done with Solaris, who was on the other side of the room with Vox and a few of the other children, and smiled warmly down at him. Astra smiled back, his stormy eyes full of elation, and started eating his prize.

“Eat slowly, little star. The cake isn’t going anywhere and you don’t want to choke now, do you?”

The boy shook his head unwillingly and only stopped to actually swallow when Noctis took a hold of the hand that held the spoon used to shovel the treat into his mouth. He also took a hold of the plate when his son threatened to knock it down with his fidgeting. That boy couldn’t sit still.

“So that’s where you both hid.”

“My life,” smiled Noctis and let Astra down, who at once shot towards his mother and hugged her legs, to stand up himself. He stepped next to her and blinked down at the plate she was holding out to him in astonishment. On it was a small piece of cake she must have held back for him. How had she been able to hide it from all those hungry mouths?

“You are a gift of the Gods.”

“I know how much you big of a sweet tooth you are. Don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at that cake.”

Embarrassment coloured his cheeks a dusty red, but he took the plate and gave his wife a grateful kiss only interrupted by Astra when he plucked at his mother’s skirt.

“Mati, look,” said the boy and held his plate up to her. The spoon fell on the ground in a metallic clatter.

“Dear me, did you eat all of that by yourself?”

“Uhu!” nodded Astra quite proud of himself.

“And tata didn’t help?” she asked mischievously and got an offended look in return from her husband.

“No. I eated it all by myself.”

“Now that deserves reward, don’t you think? Would you like to help me carry the empty plates, little star?”

“Yes!”

“Then come,” said Hiemi and held out her hand. Astra waved at Noctis, then took her hand and together they walked to the other end of the table where dirty dishes did battle with scattered crumps over who was responsible for the biggest mess.

Noctis had just taken the second bite of his cake that tasted surprisingly well like all of Gammers creations did, when across the room a child began to cry. “Healer!” called Lily over the distressed cries and Noctis choked on his cake in surprise. Someone next to him snorted in amusement causing him to glare. The guy just hit his back in a lousy effort to help. Noctis forced himself to swallow despite his aching throat and hurried over to Lily, who pressed a handkerchief onto the bleeding hand of a boy of maybe six or seven years of age. A girl stood next to them and also cried bitter tears.

Ardyn appeared next to him with a bowl of water and clean pieces of cloth. Thanking the man, he took both and kneeled next to the boy while Ardyn didn’t really seem to know what to do and decided on hovering just behind him. The girl didn’t look like she had any injuries at first glance so he cradled the boys hand between his own while Lily started to console the crying girl. Beneath the handkerchief were three small puncture wounds in the ball of the thumb that bled sluggishly.

“Don’t worry. It’ll stop hurting in a moment,” murmured Noctis in a soothing voice.

“It hurts, it hurts,” cried the boy again and again all the while fat tears kept streaming down his cheeks. Noctis kept up a steady stream of words to try and calm the boy down as he gently cleaned the wounds. Violet-golden light pulsed as Noctis’ glimmering fingers brushed over the punctures. In front of his inner eye a picture began to form as the muscle and blood vessels and the layers of skin knitted themselves back together as was their natural state of being. Beneath the awed gaze of the children and some of the adults the bleeding stopped and the wounds closed until nothing remained but three little red dots on pale skin. The boy forgot to cry entirely.

Later Lily told him that the children had fought over the last piece of cake on the boy’s plate when the girl accidentally stabbed her fork into his hand. Noctis could only sigh over it and hoped that his own children would never do something like that. He knew it was pure wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solaris is eight now! Well, she is estimated to be because when Noctis found her she didn't know when her actual birthday was. Coincidentally it's also Ardny's first kids birthday party. Her name actually means 'you will be comforted/strengthened' but she is in fact named after the sun.   
> Yes, Noctis doen't want to talk about Astra's birth mother, please and thank. That's not a pretty story.  
> Also Lily makes an appearance. She was first mentioned in chapter 2. She is married to Fodio, who's been mentioned this chapter and has a son. Both will be important as the story goes on. I think her name is very obvious, but I think it should be mentioned that flower/herb based names like that are a fairely new thing in Deep City. They're originaly from Tenebrae.  
> People generaly know instinctively that there is something about Ardyn that is not quite right. Noctis is a bit more sensitive to it and wants to observe the man until he knows what is going on. He is sick in that not really obvious manner some people can pick up on and Noctis knows what it is, he just can't place it right now.
> 
> Next up: Gladio!


	9. Gladio I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Gladio takes Iris to a doctor because she's been sick for weeks (it's not the first one), has a row with Clarus and goes into Little Galahd to get drunk (and learns a few important things).  
> A wild Nyx appears.  
> Warning: allusions to sex.

_7.29.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Upper Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Nearly out of every shred of patience he possessed Gladio fidgeted on the uncomfortable wooden chair and bounced his leg up and down in an uncontrollable bout of nerves. One would think a fancy clinic like this one, where only those with old money mingled and everybody else was run out by that frigid near impoliteness the upper class was capable of, would be able to afford accommodations for the waiting room that didn’t make his ass go numb. The biting smell of disinfectant itched his nose and scratched the back of his throat as if he was about to get a coughing fit. Time and again he looked at the freshly painted white door without paying attention to the irritated looks the others in the room shot him.

How much longer was this going to take? Iris had been gone for near half an hour now and he hadn’t been allowed to go with her. During that time three other patients had left the waiting room and five others had come in. No one here seemed to be seriously sick or hurt. Why were they all here then? This here wasn’t a beauty clinic. He suppressed an amused snort. Not even ten chocobos could make him step a foot inside of one.

Gladio, not for the first time during that long near half an hour, fished his phone out of the pocket of his uniform jacket that he had to wear despite the hot temperatures outside and looked at the glowing display. The small row of digits told him that is was just shy of half past two in the afternoon. He cussed lowly. He had to be at the citadel in about half an hour, if he didn’t want to cause any more problems for himself. Across from him an old woman, that had managed to squeeze her impressive mass into a designer dress, clicked her tongue disapprovingly at him.

Irritated he stared at the woman and crossed his arms in front of his black clad chest. Her double chin jumped in a nervous tick. Gladio knew he could be intimidating with his muscular build and the scar on his face and he was not above using that effect on people that drew his ire. Especially in situations like now where he was pressed for time and everyone seemed to have slowed down on purpose. If this took any longer he would have to call his father and he wanted to avoid this at all costs. His father wouldn’t excuse coming late, even if it concerned Iris. Maybe especially because it concerned Iris.

Then, at last, the door opened and Iris stepped through followed by the attending doctor who waved Gladio to follow him into the hallway. At once Gladio was on his feet and sat his little sister in the chair he was sitting on just a moment ago. She was white as a sheet with worryingly dark shadows under her eyes that looked more like bruises. In the crook of her arm was a fresh bandage. Gladio frowned.

“Everything all right?” he asked, worried. His big hands rested on her thin and bony shoulders.

Glassy eyes blinked up at him and then looked away. “I’ll manage.” Her voice was brittle and frail like tissue paper. It didn’t fit her at all.

Gladio made a face when he was sure that Iris couldn’t see it. He knew that this wasn’t true and he also knew that she knew that he knew it. The impatient clearing of a throat made him look up. Tapping his clipboard against his arm the doctor stood in the doorway and looked at him with an air of someone who simply processed the people that came to him and did not care about much else. He looked at his little sister again, who sat there shoulders hunched and tried to drown in one of his hoodies, ignored the impatient and pitying looks thrown his way, he knew this would be on the gossiping circles by evening, and followed the doctor outside.

The man was of a stocky built with thin hair that once upon a time must have been brown, and nervously blinking eyes. He was a specialist in a field of obscure medicine Gladio couldn’t hope to pronounce and one of the last doctors in Insomnia he hadn’t already been to. That guy must have never in his life held a sword.

“Mister Amicitia,” he said without hesitation and in a tone that was sure to give Gladio a headache. It even was the wrong form of address, but he had long ago stopped to care about that. “I will be honest with you. It does not look too good,” the man continued while blinking down on his clipboard like it held all the answers.

What followed was a litany of medical jargon Gladio had no hope to understand and the doctor didn’t overly bother to explain. The broken shield knew well enough that Iris wasn’t getting any better. For that he didn’t need a doctor. What he needed that doctor for was to fix her but no one had been able to do that since this nightmare started.

Today Iris had nearly collapsed during lunch and Gladio, in a near blind panic, had ordered Jared to get them to the nearest clinic ASAP. Not that it had helped any, it would seem. Even this great man of obscure medicine didn’t know what his sister had. It was slowly driving him crazy.

Finally they left the clinic with a bunch of prescriptions of overpriced medicines that would hopefully do… something – even if he didn’t have much hope left, seeing as nothing had really helped before – Iris sleeping in his arms. He sat her in the car Jared had parked right in front of the tall modern glass building. Gladio gave his old family retainer slash butler the prescriptions and without ado proceeded to speed walk towards the citadel. He knew Iris was in good hands. If he hurried and the traffic wasn’t so bad he might even arrive on time before somebody – Clarus – noticed something. 

* * *

 

As always during the last few weeks and months Gladio stood sentry in front of the closed entrance to the throne room. In the eyes of his father this was the ultimate disappointment. The son, who had failed in his duty and had not been able to protect his prince, the future king, the sacred duty that the Amicitia family followed diligently, and he, Gladiolus Amicitia, son of Clarus and older brother to Iris, had faltered. It was his biggest shame and he had to live with it, for better or worse.

Every time he thought about it he could taste the bitter bile on his tongue and feel the uncomfortable pull of the scar on his face. It was visible proof of his failure. The muscles in his face jumped and he screwed his eyes shut. Nyx Ulric, who stood on the other side of the great double doors, looked at him, concern clear in his posture. Thankfully the older man stayed where he was.

It was one of the reasons he had been able to befriend the Galahdian. As often as Nyx was at the citadel for his disciplinary punishment it was hardly a wonder. He was someone easy to talk to, if Nyx liked you, mind, even if sometimes Gladio just wanted to smash his face in.

Iris, thank the Gods, had never blamed him for what had happened, just like the Galahdian people, who coincidentally made up most of the Kingsglaive, even if he could never understand why they didn’t. Oh, she had been just as upset as everybody else was when Noctis had vanished into the night, but after the famed Amicitia temper had cooled down a bit, she had come to him and they had talked for a long while. About her school, his new tattoo, her love for weaponless martial arts and lastly that evening, that hadn’t been so far back, back then. She just sat next to him, so close that he could feel her body heat, and looked at him with still and calm eyes way older than her nine years of age. Not once did she interrupted him while he talked about what had happened and vented the frustrations he hadn’t been able to let out during his stay in the hospital. Then, when he was finally out of energy to continue any longer, she hugged him and told him something in that childish voice of hers that made him break down at last.

_This is not your fault._

For the first time in a long while he cried. This time not out of grief or pain, but out of relief that there was a person who still believed in him even if he himself couldn’t do it anymore. His self-confidence broken like that bottle that had cut his face.

Now that one person was deathly sick and nothing was helping. It had started so harmlessly with an ache in her knuckles. Iris had only admitted to it when Gladio had caught her administering potion laced salve onto them. _Don’t worry, I just trained too much_ , she’d said and then she had laughed. Gladio hadn’t thought it funny at all, even then, that pit in his stomach growing deeper and deeper. It had been her way to prove that the House of Amicitia had lost nothing of its strength. To this day Gladio didn’t know if that made him laugh or rage.

That had been just a few weeks ago. The aches in her knuckles had gotten worse and spread to other joints through her whole body. Iris had had to stop her training. She had been so frustrated about it. Then the fever had come, slightly at first, then stronger and stronger and today she had collapsed and he had no idea what he should do.

The sound of an opening door made him and Nyx stand at attention. Slowly the court stepped out of the throne room dressed in full regalia. At their head walked his father. King Regis was nowhere to be seen.

“Gladiolus, a word please.”

Clarus had broken off from the group and stepped up to him, shoulders straight and arms crossed behind his back. The spacious parts of his courtly armour made him even more intimidating than he already was with his stern face and cold eyes. Without really being aware of it Gladio stood up to his full height himself. In situations like this he hated that he was just a few centimeters smaller than his father, who, without waiting for an answer, had turned around and walked towards the lifts.

Gladio traded a glance with Nyx. The man sill looked concerned for him, but nodded. Nyx would cover for him and when they saw each other next they would talk. Duke Clarus Amicitia, Shield of the King, was not a man you left waiting.

He was already by the lift and waited impatiently for the doors to open when Gladio reached him. Both of them held their tongues during the whole way down to the conference rooms. The silence whipped between them like an aggressive thunderoc. Artfully decorated walls made of gold and stone with lighter accents passed by, unheeded like the people that stepped out of their way when they saw them coming. They came to an empty room that was normally used by the requisitions board of the crownsguard. Only as Gladio had closed the door behind him did Clarus open his mouth, he face dark like a thundercloud.

“Cor told me that you have been late again today.”

It was a simple statement, but Gladio knew through long years of experience that an answer was expected. _Damnit Cor_ , he cursed silently. He had only been late by mere minutes. No use telling his father that.

“Yes sir.”

Clarus said nothing, just looked at him. Gladio gritted his teeth.

“I was at a doctor’s office. Iris collapsed today during lunch.”

He could see clear as day how the storm in his father’s face broke loose. Oh, that wasn’t good. At all.

“Didn’t I tell you to cease those pointless excursions?”

The painstakingly controlled voice of his father had gotten louder with each word. Gladio wasn’t faring any better as his temperament ran away with him: “I don’t make _excursions_! Iris has been sick for weeks now. If you were home more often than once every few weeks you would know that. I just brought her to a doctor which is supposed to be _your_ job! By the Gods, she is your daughter, damn it!”

Gladio regretted those words the moment they passed his lips.

“Father, I…”

“Did it help?” interrupted his father in a tone of voice so frigid it would make Shiva shiver with its coldness.

“… No,” admitted Gladio grudgingly and hated himself for the burning in his eyes, his weakness and his mistakes.

For a few long seconds Clarus looked at him with an unreadable face. Then he nodded as if he had just come to a decision with himself. “I thought so. Gladiolus, you are an Amicitia. Since the earliest days it has been our duty to protect our kings. We are the first and last line of defense, his majesties shield. Should this shield break it means the death of the royal house. What you let happen under your watch and your current actions are inexcusable. Should something like today occur one more time I will be forced to take you off the kingsguard and the palace watch.”

“You can’t do that!” The words burst out before he could stop them. Stunned he stared at his father in mute horror.

“I can and I will. This will be my last warning to you.”

_It will be your only one._

Without another word or spare his son one more glace, Clarus left the room and left behind a broken shield. Gladio stood there as if turned to stone, his thoughts dark and empty like the space between the stars, until his whole body jerked and with a loud cry he started to beat down on the elegant tabletop in the middle of the room. Once. Twice.

When he opened his fist again his knuckles were bloody and the joints in his fingers cracked painfully as he tried to move them. Dully Gladio stared down at his hand as if he couldn’t believe that it was truly his own. Carefully flexing his fingers he winced at the sharp twinges of pain but nothing seemed to be broken. Now, that would have made his day absolutely perfect.

How could his father say something like that? Never had an Amicitia not been in the kingsguard or the palace watch not to mention been let go in this manner. Clarus _couldn’t_ do that and because of Iris…! Had their father already given up all hope to find a cure for her? Was it that? Gladio would never do that. He owed it to his sister not to. And Noctis.

* * *

 

Still burning with an inner rage Gladio made his way outside and into the city. His shift would be over in a few more minutes and it wouldn’t be worth it to go back to the throne room only to leave his post again at the same time he got there. It also had the effect of avoiding the curious looks the other guardsmen shot his way, or not having to answer Nyx’ questions. Outside it was already dark and the lights glowed like stars during a clear night. Even now the streets were full of people that wanted to experience the famed Insomnian night life. Aimless he roamed through the streets and alleys and went deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city. He didn’t want to meet any face he knew right now.

The fronts of the towering buildings around him had steadily grown worse and the night sky had been partly replaced with metal, concrete and pipes, when he finally came to a stop and looked around to orient himself. He stood on a lively street made up of cracked asphalt that was lined with countless booths and stalls. Loud music played at the crossroads and the air was heavy with the smell of grilled meat and hot spices. He was on the fringes between Little Galahd and the rest of the Lower Refugee District. Right in front of him stood some kind of pub with badly lit and peeling lettering over the entrance but Gladio thought it was supposed to be made up of two words. Something _Saffron_. Strange name.

Without further thinking about it he opened the door screeching at the hinges and stepped inside. In his opinion this pub was as good as any other to get drunk in. A wall of stuffy air, pregnant with heavy smoke that drifted in thick swathes under the low ceiling, hit him like a wall of bricks. It smelled obtrusively of soy, alcohol and sweating human bodies that were enclosed in a small space. The room was bursting at the seams. Somewhere in the back someone was playing a lively song on a guitar that was nearly drowned out in the hubbub of so many different voices trying to one up each other.

Luckily he got a hold on the last free stool by the bar between a man who stank nauseatingly of sewage water and a scantily clad woman between whose fingers burned a halfway smoked cigarette and who watched him beneath heavy eyelids rather suggestively. Next to her elbow stood an ashtray in which there were already quite a few stubs crowding amongst each other.

Before he could even say something the barkeeper, a tired looking man with a bald patch, smacked a full glass of beer right in front of him. Dumbfounded he stared down at the golden brew whose foam slowly traveled down the glass and formed a white puddle on the counter. What by all the Gods?

“He’s been doin’ that for the whole evening already. Best to drink it. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste now, would we?“

 Gladio looked over at the prostitute next to him that grinned at him with lips painted a startling red. “What?”

“Give out free beer, honey. His son’s finally gettin‘ treatment, shall we say,” she elaborated seemingly quite bored with the entire situation. As if this kind of news was an old hat and everyone already knew about it.

Darkly he started into his glass and took a large gulp, his knuckles protested loudly but he ignored it. The beer was wishy-washy and far too warm. If he had to imagine what piss tasted like, that would be it, but it was free beer and he wasn’t going to complain. “I’ve had enough of doctors for today.”

“Oh?”

The woman leaned forward slightly and with that showed off quite a bit more of her cleavage.

“I don’t think that it is any of your concern,” he said harsher than he wanted to.

She shrugged but her eyes sparkled. “Maybe not, but I’m a very good listener, honey,” she said and grazed his upper arm with her free hand as if by accident. An approving smile stole itself onto her lips for less than a second before it vanished behind her heavy gaze again.

“And then wanting money for it? If I ever need a shrink, I know where I can find one, Lady.”

Her red lips formed a truly impressive pout.  “Nobody said anythin’ about a shrink. They’re all so serious all the time.”

Against his will Gladio snorted into is glass. She grinned and took a drag from her cigarette. Smoke flowed out of her nose in a twirling haze and drifted up to the ceiling. “There you have it. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? So, what’s a strong member of the palace watch like you doin’ in our humble corner of the city?”

“How…? Oh, the damn uniform.”

“Not to worry. It suits you very well, indeed. What’s your name, honey?”

He studied her for a few moments. Did he really want to do this? This wasn’t a place he usually frequented and after this evening he will not come back again. On the other hand he was here now. “Gladio,” he answered at last.

 “Very nice to meet you, Gladio. I’m Viti.”

Her smile was like a cat’s and made goose bumps travel along his arms and his blood rush down where it had no business being right now. Viti looked at him like she knew how he was reacting to her. There was something about her he couldn’t name but was exceedingly fascinating. He thought her in the lower years of her third decade and he could see every year of it on her face despite the make-up she wore. Gladio looked over to the bartender who cleaned glasses with a dirty rag and cold water while talking with a group of patrons.

 “What does his son have?”

He didn’t really know what made him ask but something told him that it was important he knew, even if it wasn’t his business. He knew how it was when strangers asked after a sick relative a bit too well for his tastes.

“He’s got ashenhorn skin syndrome. Cyathos – that’s the bartender – doesn’t have the money for the treatment or the medicines. Real, good doctors are simply too expensive and we all know those alley medics don’t know the difference between a cold and a broken bone. But a good two weeks ago Marius here,” she pointed at the man who stank of sewage water next to him, “came in here out of the blue and took Cyathos to the side. Everyone heard him anyway.”

“Someone said ma name?”

Gladios stunned gaze wandered from Viti to the man next to him who had turned towards them, his eyes glassy from too much alcohol and he seemed to be caught somewhere between tipsy and all out drunk.

“Didn’t you have enough already, Marius?” asked Viti amused.

The man just waved one hand in front of his face and nearly spilt the rest of his near empty glass across the counter. “I say! Petr here’s lookin’ after me, aren’t ya?”

He patted a man with curly brown hair and clothes as shabby as Marius’ own on the back all the while laughing so loud other patrons looked at them. Petr wasn’t very tall but lanky so that he nearly vanished behind Marius. “’Sides Cyathos owes me one ‘cause it was me who took his boy to Healer today. Did our Viti tell you that already?”

“Give it a rest, man. I think everybody knows that story already ‘cause ya can’t keep yar big mouth shut,” said Petr exasperated.

“What’s tha’ supposed to mean? ‘Course I can keep ma mouth shut! Those stuck-ups up there haven’t heard of him yet, have they? Have they?” Seeking help he blinked at his companion.

“No, they don’t,” murmured Petr and Marius nodded satisfied before he made to empty the rest of his glass in one go.

“Salute Viti. How’s Leilei?” asked the curly head after a moment of silence.

The only woman in the group raised a plucked eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you ask her that yourself, Petr? Or has your wife at last grown a pair and cut off your balls?”

Petr winced as if he had been hit. “What’s that supposed ta mean?” he asked appalled.

“Maybe exactly that,” murmured Gladio and couldn’t suppress a grin. Why was he listening to this circus? Even if he had to admit it was a very entertaining circus.

Viti snorted not at all ladylike while Marius broke into bellowing laughter. Conspiratorial he leaned over to Gladio who leaned back to escape the smell of alcohol clinging to the man and making his already nauseating stench worse.

“Ya know that he impr- impa- damn it - he made her pregnant? Shags all that’s spreadin’ legs for him and turns tail when shit’s hit the fan. Leilei’s seeing the Healer ‘cause of it, too.”

Petr grabbed the drunk man by the arm. “Come. Ya really had enough now.” Under loud protests and louder cussing Marius got dragged out of the pub.

“Nice company.”

“Ah, they’re harmless. Marius has the heart at the right place and Petr isn’t so bad himself if you know how to handle him.”

There was a lull in the conversation where Viti lit a new cigarette for herself and Gladio watched the people around him. Most of them were refugees from the regions currently fought over or natives from the poorer districts north from here. He himself stood out like a taotie between anaks in his black uniform. Then his curiosity won.

“Who even is that Healer? That cannot be his actual name.”

Viti watched him with a look that made him sit up straight. Her dark eyes seemed to bore into the deepest parts of him, looking for something and finding it, because she answered: “That’s no easy question. It should rather be: What isn’t he?”

Gladio frowned. „You’re not making any sense.”

She seemed to seriously think about it while taking a deep drag from her cigarette. The smoke wafted around her black hair like a grey halo. “It truly isn’t - an easy question I mean. It’s difficult for me to describe a person where even the people around him aren’t sure if he’s a human, a saint or a god. One thing I can say is that every rumor you’ll hear about him is true. Everything they say he did, he did. With witnesses to confirm it. Nothing of this wishy washy ‘hear how great I am’. He’s really rather humble and hates it when people talk about him.”

That was absolutely laughable. He should stand up and go home. It was getting late, Iris would worry where he was and in her condition…

“It’s more than just ashenhorn skin syndrome and that’s nasty enough already. There’s never been anything he couldn’t heal and if there is I haven’t heard about it. That boy will be up and running again in two weeks tops, I can guaranty it. And all that without any pay worth mentioning. People give him what they want and sometimes he doesn’t even take that.”

“Are you serious? You’re treading dangerously close to blasphemy. You know that, right?”

Viti shrugged without care. “Believe what you want. I for my part have never seen one of the Great Six, but Healer, him I know and can talk to.”

“If he is so great and powerful as you say, then why is he hiding down here like a criminal or worse, a coward?”

Gladio glared at her, a challenge clear in his eyes. She returned his gaze with predatory patience. A warm shudder creeped up his back, whispered over his neck and arms. Maybe he won’t be going home so fast after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's been wrestling with me for the past few days. Had to rewrite the middle part two times and still am not quite happy with it. But since it's not getting any better sitting on my drive I'm posting.  
> Iris is seriously sick and what it is will be revealed later. People on my tumblr (ertrunkenerwassergeist) may already know because I already spilt the beans there (more or less)^^ Ashenhorn skin syndrome is a sickness that I made up that makes your skin around the joints stiff and unbending until you cant move at all anymore. Don't know if something like that exists irl.  
> To make one more thing clear, Clarus is not supposed to be a dick. The whole situation is just... complicated and will be resolved during this fic. (which is getting ridiculously long even in the planning phase.)  
> A few things concerning this chapter:  
> 'Salute' is a greeting common in Deep City. So you can guess where Marius and Petr are from. ;)  
> Five OCs (holy shit)  
> Cyathos, meaning cup, is there solely to provide infrastructure, Petr (Stein) and Marius (either manly or sea) will get a role later on and Viti (guilt/grapevine) is there because... spoilers.  
> Next up: Noctis!


	10. Ardyn III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Ardyn has a realization that he takes both worse and better than he could have and he and Noctis finally start to talk.   
> If you ask Astra, Boco the stuffed chocobo, makes everything better.  
> Warning: talking about child murder

_7.30.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The realization that Healer was not his son crept slowly upon him during the days he had been here already until it hit him right in the face like the kick of a furious chocobo. It made him have another breakdown – how embarrassing – because he’d thought he might actually get another chance to get to know his son, that the Gods had finally shown a shred of mercy.

Obviously he had been wrong.

Disoriented he woke in the room he’d been given, Healer at his side on a stool with a book in his lap. Ardyn didn’t move for a long time, didn’t make a sound, instead he watched as the young man, who looked near identical to how he remembered his son looking, read his huge and very old book.

He was definitely a Lucis Caelum. Everyone who knew what they had to look for would be able to see it clear as day. The general form of his face, the black hair that came from the Cavaughan part of their blood, by the dawn, even the way he smiled. Did he come from a bastard line of his vile brother? No, he decided after a few moments. Somnus’ line wouldn’t have tolerated a white mage among them. Of that the dragon had made damn sure. Hence he must be from his own line which meant that his son…

Somehow this was a relieving thought. Jubaris hadn’t spent all these long years suffering the curse of immortality as he had. Somnus hadn’t been able to get to him, hadn’t been able to kill him and present Ardyn with his corpse just to gloat over it. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure anymore if this had been reality or a figment of his many nightmares.

No, instead he had been able to live, have a family, a wife and children. Suddenly his eyes were burning and the tightness in his throat made it hard to swallow. Loudly he sucked the stale air through his teeth. The sound made Healer look up from his reading. In his remarkable violet eyes he could see worry and relief and his own trepidation reflected back at him.

For a moment Ardyn just looked, trailed his gaze from near glowing violet to the unkempt long hair that was put into a half-hearted bun, to the magic scars decorating the left side of his face and both eyes like elaborate tattoos. Such a stupid and reckless boy.

“You are not my son,” he said and even in his ears his voice sounded strangely hollow.

“No. No, I’m not,” Healer answered and closed his book. The lettering of the cover was too old for him to decipher reading upside down. Somehow Ardyn managed to wrestle something like a smile on his face.

“You look so very much like him. If I didn’t know better I would have named you his twin.”

Healer’s lips didn’t even twitch at that poor attempt at a joke. Even Ardyn had to admit that it was one of his worst attempts jet and there had been many over the years. What the young man did instead was lean forward in interest.

Carefully Ardyn sat up until his back leaned against the headboard of the bed. The thin pillow didn’t do much in terms of cushioning him from the hard and cool metal frame. His mouth was as dry and dusty as the old Gralean desert. As if he had read his mind, or had years of experience to draw from, Healer held out a cup full of lukewarm water, that he drank from greedily.

“Is that what made you break down? You coming to the realization that I am not your son?” the young man asked carefully, his tone neutral.

“No,” answered Ardyn after a few moments. “It was more the thought that my brother may have actually killed him.”

Healers face had gone pale with those words. It made Ardyn feel an echo of… something. He ignored it in favour of continuing in a casual manner that was fraying at the seams: “I don’t think he was able to do it because I sent him and his mother away before things truly escalated, but that means that _he_ killed an innocent child, that had nothing to do with our… disagreement, to throw into the dirt in front of me. What would make his character worse? That he was able to kill his own nephew or that he was willing to kill an uninvolved bystander?”

Healer took a shuddering breath. “By the light of the sun,” he muttered visibly shaken to the bones. Ardyn found it kind of reassuring. It was good that there was still a healers heart beating in the Lucis Caelum line.

“Don’t worry. I think I’m coming… to terms with it.”

Not really true, but not untrue either. He’d had more than two thousand years to torture himself with his son’s murder and now he had grown numb to the pain. More or less. Healer stared at him in clear disbelieve but Ardyn just kept sipping his water until the younger let it drop.

“If it helps, I think you already knew somewhere deep down that I wasn’t your son. Apart from the first time you saw me you never called me thus.”

“Hhmmm,” made Ardyn and said no more. The boy wasn’t wrong.

Healer sighed after a beat of silence. “I will go and make some tea. One of Hiemis blends, it will do you good. Just rest until then, all right?”

Ardyn, who didn’t feel up to actually getting up and doing something, nodded and watched as Healer left the room, leaving the door open. From the old ballroom that had been converted into a dormitory a few doors down he heard the lively sounds of some game that was underway.

He made a face and dragged his shaking fingers through his wild vine red locks.

Family.

Not as close as he had hoped but still family upon which he hadn’t sworn vengeance.

The scourge within his blood screeched and drilled itself into his mind like hot hooks of iron. Loudly it demanded its promised vengeance upon everybody with the Lucis Caelum blood even if they were neither the king, nor the crown prince, nor their direct family. It demanded destruction and all swallowing darkness that would lay over everything like a poisoned shroud.

In a loud clatter the cup fell onto the ground and rolled under the stool unheeded as Ardyns fingers dug themselves into his scalp. A hoarse keening sound escaped him. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Something climbed onto his legs. Startled he forced his eyes open – When had he closed them? – and nearly hurtled the intruder forcefully away from him and drowned them in sickening blackness. Who would dare to lay eyes upon him and touch him while he was in such a weakened state? At the last moment did he recognize that face, round with baby fat, and the wild black hair standing up in every direction possible. There Astra sat and looked at him with the kind of absolute trust that scared him. It was not Besithias narrow face and oily grin.

“What are you doing here?” hissed Ardyn harsher than he had intended to.

Luckily the boy only tilted his head and held out the stuffed chocobo Ardyn had never seen him without. It was a miserable thing with just one remaining eye and hackly plumage.

“Aden aiai,” said Astra and held the stuffed animal a little closer to the man’s face.

Uncomprehending Ardyn stared at the small child. Astra, who seemed to think that this thing, whatever it was, took too long, pulled a determined face that looked more like a pout on him and edged closer up Ardyns legs from his knees until he sat on his thighs.

“Aden Boco!”

“He wants to give you Boco because you’ve been sad. Take him before Astra starts to think that you don’t like him. He would cry about it and we don’t want that, do we?”

Startled Ardyn looked up. He hadn’t heard Healer enter the room. In his hands he carried a tray with two steaming cups that funnily enough smelled like pepper and lemon grass. The young man stepped next to the bed where he sat the tray down upon the metal board that functioned as a bedside table and smiled at his son who grinned back before he went back to staring expectantly at Ardyn. Encouraging, Healer motioned towards Astra a grin still on his face.

“Now that would truly be a travesty”, said Ardyn and kept the grimace off his face.

He looked down at the little boy who at this exact moment started to furrow his brow and pout in earnest as if to confirm his father’s words. Ardyns gaze started to become unfocused when Astras face became overlain by another who had looked much the same at that age.

Jerkily he pulled Astra into his arms and burrowed his face into hair black as night. The boy made a satisfied sound and patted Ardyns ribs right above one of the scars where the chains had been hooked into his flesh.

“Aiaiai,” made the boy in his high children’s voice.

Ardyn heaved a deep sobbing breath and then the tears came. It was the first time in a long, long while that he’d truly let his tears flow. He didn’t even care about the other people in the room. Healer murmured soft words Ardyn didn’t care to understand while he cried into his son’s hair.

Somewhere deep within his bones a small flickering became an equally small flame that shone in the impenetrable darkness that was his destiny and his curse. But it was there, a long forgotten light, and it _warmed_ him from the inside out. His shoulders shook under heaving sobs as relief joined his age old grief and fury.

It was still there.

_It was still there._

The light of his ancestors.

He had no idea how long he sat like this, his large body curled around the small child, but when he carefully sat up straight again his eyes felt puffy and encrusted, Astra had fallen asleep cradled against his chest and the tea had gone cold. Healer was nowhere in sight and the door to the room had been closed. Ardyn gritted his teeth with so much force that his jaw began to protest its treatment.

Did he seriously consider to give up his plans for this?

_This?_

With an expression that would have scared away even the most dangerous of deamons he stared down at the boy who looked so much like his father and Jubaris, the dreaded stuffed chocobo pressed against his side and a thumb in his mouth.

Yes.

No.

Most of them.

Maybe.

Exasperated with himself and the whole situation he stood up and, with great care not to wake him, laid Astra under the blankets. He whined incoherently around the thumb in his mouth but did not wake.

He should leave now. He really should, before the ties, he felt growing with each moment he stayed, chained him to these people. His family. Calloused fingers found the bridge of his nose and his tongue tasted salt upon his lips. This was pointless. His thoughts were running in circles. Those plans had been hard worked for. Nearly thirty years now and that work should not go to waste. But then…

Involuntarily a smile grew on his lips as he looked at the boy in the bed and stroked is black hair before he abruptly turned around and walked out of the room and towards the bathroom at the end of the near dark corridor. The sounds from the dormitory had long since died down to a steady murmur caused by its occupants. He supposed he should wash his face before someone saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I didn't publish a Noctis chapter like I promised! But this one *gestures up* just talked in Ardyns voice and it couldn't be silenced. Noctis was just 'I'm too tired just let Ardyn do it, lol' -.-  
> What I forgot to mention in chapter 8 about Vox: I don't know if you realized but he's mute. I myself am neither mute nor hard of hearing nor is anyone around my that I know personally so my knowledge about this is limited to the few introductory courses my old school did once and stuff I found on the internet. I'll try my best to do it right but if there are any errors please tell me because they are likely there unintentionally. Also, if I ever happen to describe the signs used they will be from the DGS (German Sign Language).  
> So now to this chapter:  
> Ardyn and Noctis are finally speaking about the elephants in the room. Or at least starting to. Damn, those two don't talk easily about feelings. I had to rewrite this twice.  
> And Ardyn finally doesn't think Noctis is his son anymore. Yay! That he even thought so gave even me a headache. We're getting there. slowly but surely. We are. I promise. When he finds out that Noctis is actually Noctis it might get a tad explosive.  
> Concerning the white magic Ardyn always knew he hadn't been robbed of it but this is the first time he actually felt it do something other than shrinking back or trying to escape for the first time since he'd been imprisoned by Somnus.  
> Next up: Gladio! (for real)


	11. Gladio II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Nyx and Ignis are the responsible ones. Gladio, listen to them. It's very dire when Nyx is the responsible one.

_7.31.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Upper Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Iris finally slept under a haze of pain-relieving meds after a long and sleepless night as Gladio left the house to start his shift. Tiredness and exhaustion burned in his eyes and induced a dull throbbing behind his temples. At last yesterday had been his free day and he had been able to spend it with his sister holed up in the house and the garden without having to deal with other people.

Scowling he sipped his coffee, that was just shy of burning his fingers and his tongue, out of a paper cup and walked towards the tastefully illuminated citadel. From the street it looked like a giant dressed in light.

For the last day of the seventh month the night was pretty mild. Here and there drunken partygoers staggered past him on their way home. A group waved at him while bellowing something he couldn’t understand with slurred voices. Gladio ignored the provocatively dressed troop and marched on. He could feel the headache creep up on him. He needed another coffee.

Iris had had another fever during the night and the pain in her joints hadn’t let her sleep. Her medicine hadn’t helped really either. Frustrated he scrunched up the now empty paper cup and threw it into the nearest bin.

Shit.

The scar on his face registered with its stretched skin and right now he would like nothing more than hit Noctis in the face. Hot rage sat in his stomach like a heavy stone and dark as the deepest depths of Pitioss.

_All of this is that spoiled prince’s fault._

Why did he have to run away like Ifrit himself was after him? Right after that thought he could see Noctis’ face rising up from his memories and his bad conscience came back in full force, kicked him in the guts and hit him over the head. He was going to be sick. Gladio remembered how the prince, to whom he had sworn his life to, had looked before he had run down the alleyway and vanished until this day. Pallid he had been white as chalk more like, with eyes wide in horror and shaking limbs.

Gladio hadn’t been able to follow and Ignis simply hadn’t been fast enough. He didn’t blame the younger. But himself? Hah, he had been really dumb to let his face get sliced up from an alcoholic hobo with a broken bottle. Noctis had stared at him. Him. Not Ignis. Not that drunk. Gladio had gone through that night more times than he cared to count and had come to the result that it had to have been him; the reason that he couldn’t explain. So he kept his head down and protected what he could as long as he could.

In the citadel he still had enough time for another cup of coffee in the staff room for the palace watch and to check with whom he would have the honour to stand in front of the throne room’s doors again for six hours. His own name was the first from the top – go figure. Gladio snorted into his cup full of the liquid gold that would hopefully make him go through the day without falling asleep while standing up. Maybe he would get a good night’s sleep soon.

_Yeah, as if._

His gaze wandered one column down. Involuntarily he had to grin. It looked like Nyx had really angered Captain Drautos this time, if he got punted into the morning shift in front of the throne room. Behind him sounded a quiet click as the door was opened and then closed, causing Gladio to look over his shoulder.

Speak of the fire and it shall appear.

Nyx murmured a tired “Good morning” that was near unintelligible and Gladio answered with a greeting of his own, before the older man shuffled over to the coffee machine. With that old fashioned thing Gladio had made a whole pot at once for conveniences sake. Fascinated he watched as Nyx took a sip, black and without sugar, and regretted it instantly.

“Damn, Amicitia. What did you put in there? Now I marvel how you still have a stomach left if you drink that every day,” wheezed Nyx and dumped so much milk into his cup that it nearly flooded over.

“Aaww. Are you concerned about me? Don’t sweat it, Ulric. Your sensitive stomach will certainly recover from this nasty shock. Maybe the coffee doesn’t agree with all those spices you eat.”

Nyx looked at him with a strange look in his eyes, looked him over from top to bottom and came to a stop at the dark circles under his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a serious tone. Too serious for somebody that didn’t have anything to do with this.

Gladio shrugged. “The usual,” he grumbled. For the most part that was even true. His frustration was nothing new, as was the discord he had with his father and Iris‘  sickness. Nyx frowned incredulous.

“Listen, Gladio. We may not know each other very well but I want to believe that we understand each other. If you need help go talk to somebody. You’re nearly at the point where you can easily collapse of exhaustion and that won’t help you or your sister any.”

“What would you know?” asked Gladio, his voice sharp like the edge of a kingsglaives kukri.

Nyx made a face. He visibly was wondering why the hell he had said what he just did. “I know because I’ve been there and it’s… not good. Trust me on this, okay? If nothing else.”

Fucking hell.

If people kept talking to him like that he would collapse sooner rather than later for real. He sighed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be able to manage for now.”  Even in his own ears the words sounded weak and hollow.

Disbelievingly Nyx stared at him for a few seconds before he shook his head. “Come. I for my part don’t have any aspirations to get chewed out by General Leonis because I’ve been neglecting my duties or some such,” he said and drank the rest of his too strong coffee. “Man, I would love to see the faces of the people who try to drink this stuff. If I’d known I would’ve brought a camera to hide or something.”

“Then stay and get a talking to from Cor. Those are always fun,” grinned Gladio.

“Ha, you would like that, wouldn’t you? But no thanks. It’s enough that I’m here until the next mission outside Insomnia.” Which could take some time, if Nyx was out of luck.

Together they walked along the empty halls of the citadel. This early in the morning most of it lay in the miserable half-light of the few lights kept on during the night. On the way to the service lifts not a soul crossed their path. They walked the way in companionable silence until they relieved the night guards who were already quite impatient to leave. Both men prepared themselves for long hours of inactivity only broken by nobles and petitioners that walked by them to talk to the king. Sometimes it was like professional people watching. But for now it was still some time until daybreak came and the silence wailed through the walls.

* * *

 

If the morning had been mild then the early afternoon was scorching hot. The sun burned down upon the people that dared to be out in the open and gave the careless their first – or maybe second – sunburn. From the east there approached towers of dark clouds and announced the first storm of the season. It would be a boon, for this early summer was unusually hot.

The shrieking of the children that were splashing about in the fountain rang loud in Gladio’s ear, but he didn’t really care about it. After a short training session after his shift he had practically fled from the citadel. He hadn’t had the urge to come across his father after he had threatened him with his leave from the crownsguard and the palace watch. That well known ball of frustration, anger and helplessness sat heavy in his chest and in his lowest moments threatened to rob him of his ability to breathe. With a frustrated sigh he closed his eyes and sat back. Hot sunbeams coloured the blackness of his vision red.

So here he sat, on a wooden bench in one of the city’s many parks and tried to think of nothing. He had actually wanted to spend the day with Iris but his feet had carried him here. Right now he didn’t think he could bear the concerned gazes of the Hesters or hear his sister’s laboured breathing. The whole house lay under a poisonous breath that robbed the very life from one’s body.

_It’s no wonder father never comes home anymore._

Sweat ran down his face and back but he didn’t take the black parade coat off. He simply sat there, eyes closed and thought about the last time Iris had been truly healthy – was that really weeks ago now? – and the last time he had walked through the city streets without a care in the world.

That had been nearly five years ago when he had still been standing proudly at his prince’s side, like a proper shield should. Oh, how stupid he had been back then. It had been Noctis who had convinced Ignis to go to the night market that marked the halfway point between the Light Festival and the Memorial Day. They’d had fun with the attractions and their stomachs had hurt from all that food.

Noctis was obsessing over old folktales and fairytales and Gladio was not happy as the prince first stopped by a story teller, who normally only told children’s tales, and then at a booth that was groaning under the weight of its old historical books. Ignis also fell to the charm of ink and paper and Gladio dragged them away when it started to get late.

That had been his last real interaction with Noctis. He regretted it until this day. Oh, how he regretted. If he could, he would try to make amends, he would beg on his knees if he had to.

“Gladio? What are you doing here?”

Surprised he jerked up and looked around so fast that his neck muscles protested painfully. In front of him stood Ignis, carefully dressed as ever, with a briefcase awkwardly jammed under one arm while he carried a container and a thermos in his hands. Gladio hadn’t heard his approach.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Brown eyes met green. Ignis’ shoulders were strangely tense as he stood there without saying a word. Finally he cleared his throat and Gladio looked aside in embarrassment even if he couldn’t explain why. There was nothing to meeting an old friend again after a while, wasn’t there? But still he couldn’t look Ignis in the eyes for long.

“I’m on my lunch break,” came the answer and Gladio could sense how Ignis proceeded to sit down next to him.

This time the silence stretched on for longer, like old chewing gum and way more uncomfortable. Gladio began wondering why Ignis even sat down next to him when didn’t have anything to say, like the many times before, after Noctis had vanished.

He looked over to the children again that still chased each other around the fountain hollering for the entire world to hear, some only dressed in their underwear or diaper. The families sat on benches or picnic blankets and watched over the brood with keen eyes and smiles on their faces. The scene was so peaceful that one could think nothing wrong with this world. Dryly Gladio swallowed the bile rising in his throat and leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

“How are you and Iris doing?” Ignis asked slowly, as if every word carried him further out into a minefield. He was not entirely wrong. Suddenly restless, Gladio shifted in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Why did everybody he met ask that when they wanted to talk to him? It wasn’t that bad. Really. He would get the hang of it. Somehow.

“How do you think it’s going?” he asked back.

Next to him sounded a resigned sigh, still he refused to look away from the fountain and the playing children.

“You cannot still blame yourself for that.”

Gladio ground his teeth with such force that he could hear them grate under the pressure. “It was my responsibility, Ignis. Mine. Us Amicitias have fulfilled it since the time of the founder king and of all people it’s me… 114 generations, Ignis. 114 generations and I’m the first one.” He had to force himself not to yell, to tell the whole world what a disappointment his father thought him to be. “He looked at me as if I was Ifrit personified come just to get him,” he whispered at last.

His voice cracked. Heavily he braced his elbows against his knees and dragged his hands through his hair with an air of desperation he had never allowed anybody to see. A warm hand came to rest upon his shoulder. Gladio didn’t dare look up in fear of what he would see if he did.

_Coward._

“It was the blood.”

Ignis spoke so quietly that he could barely understand him, but something in the tone of the younger finally made him look up. Green eyes, full of sympathy and understanding looked at his scar. That cursed scar. Gladio had refused any treatment, that had involved more than the stemming of the blood, to help the search for Noctis as fast as he possibly could. The result was thick and dark ropy scar that on some days rendered blinking with his left eye near impossible. He could count himself lucky that he still had his full range of vision the doctor had said.

Lucky, his ass.

“I have run what happened through my head again and again. And I don’t doubt you did it, too,” Ignis continued just as quiet as before. “We have all been unwary that day. You, me, his highness, all of us. As that… that man wanted to attack Noctis you reacted in the only way that was available to you at the moment. I saw his highness’ face as that alcoholic cut your face. Gladio, it was… Noctis walked towards you. He wanted to help, I think. There was a magical charge in his hands, as if he couldn’t do anything less, and you know how bad he is at the Lucis Caelum magicks. It was only as he saw the blood that… Whatever made him run away, it caused him such a great fear, that he couldn’t think straight anymore. Something like that is not your fault, do you understand? Your blood represented something terrible to him but it was not you as a person.”

At a loss of words Gladio stared at the man next to him. His expression betrayed nothing but icy determination and the absolute surety to be in the right. “You must have thought about this for a very long time,” Gladio grinded out. What else could he say in the face of this? Nothing.

“I’ve had four years and four months to think about it,” Ignis said laconic.

Again they fell silent for a while, but now it was the silence of two people that said everything there was to say at that moment. Ignis looked at his watch and stood up.

“I have to go back. My break is nearly over.”

Gladio just nodded at first, but then asked anyway: “Those snooty-nosed upstarts don’t cause you too much trouble?”

“You yourself are one of those snooty-nosed upstarts, Gladio. But not more than they do you, I suppose,” he answered and shot Gladio a stern look.

“You know what I mean,” he grinned and stood up, too. It was time for him to go back home to Iris. He had no doubts that Jared looked after her with great diligence but he couldn’t help the uneasy feeling growing in his chest. Carefully he looked at Ignis, who was looking right back, also not ready to say his farewells just yet, after they talked for the first time in years without it ending in an argument. “We should meet more often. Iris would like to see you again, too, I imagine.”

Ignis scrutinized Gladio who forced himself to look him into the eyes. Since when had it become so difficult a task? At last the younger nodded and Gladio’s muscles relaxed. Iris would really like this. Maybe a visit from an old friend would bring back some of her lost energy. They nodded towards each other one last time and made to walk away on their respective paths.

Then the earth started to quake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff if finally happening! Yay!  
> There are stressful times ahead for everybody.   
> All those years of guilt did a number in Gladio. Poor guy. It will get better. Promise. But first he has to find himself a purpose again. One that doesn't include fretting over his sister 24/7. The Hesters are there, too, to help.
> 
> Next up: Ardyn!


	12. Ardyn IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ardyn has a perfectly normal morning and a pretty normal first day at work. Up until he hasn't.  
> Featuring:  
> Arguing but loving couples, playing children, grumpy but alright people and a talkative teenager.
> 
> Note: 'Avi' is Latin and means grandfather.

_7.31.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

If one were to ask Ardyn later who was the one at fault in this whole fiasco he would tilt his head, a warning grin upon his face and point at the young man he treasured as family. If one were to ask said young man next, he would probably shake his head in resignation and say about how the Gods loved to heap the responsibility upon his family even if they had no part in it. Everybody else would say that Healer had protected everybody who had survived the catastrophe and that the Ferryman of the Dead had simply been faster concerning the rest. Not that anybody would think to ask them.

It was two days after Solaris’ birthday party and three days after Ardyn had come to Insomnia and he had let himself get roped into actually working. _So that you won’t get bored_ , his scourge cursed ass. He would never get tired of watching his family. Actual family. What a novel thought that was. Ardyn had always wondered what it would be like to be a grandfather since he’d had his own children and now he could actually try it. It was a strange feeling, that. It filled him with something that might be humbleness. Now he just had to ask Healer for his actual birth name, but every time he wanted to the words seared his mouth like burning coals. He would ask today, after he got back and the children were asleep.

At breakfast said children bounced around the room like hyper rubber balls playing a weird combination of catch and the floor is lava using stuff from the play corner and cutting boards they had scattered on the floor. Ardyn entered the lively scene and promptly had to evade a little black haired cannonball that slid his way on some unfortunate stuffed animal. He sat down on an empty chair between Hiemi Hestia and a woman with long dreadlocks that introduced herself as Aes Ferrum.

“Healer asked me to deliver you to Fodio. That ass is the head-honcho of this mad undertaking.”

“Ass!” crowed Astra as loud as he could as he jumped by their seats to escape Solaris’ rather daring attempt at catching him.

“Astra!” cried Hiemi Hestia and tried to grab the boy, who abandoned his game to evade his mother and hide behind his sister, much against said sister’s protests. “Damn, that boy. He has a talent to always repeat the words he shouldn’t have heard in the first place,” she complained but remained in her seat while staring darkly at Aes.

She only shrugged, unconcerned. “Sooner or later he would’ve heard it anyway. But you’ve got to admit it’s true. Fodio’s an ass.”

Hiemi Hestia looked mildly angered but her silence was telling enough.

“I am not sure of the need to be delivered anywhere, my dear,” Ardyn decided to cut in, an indulgent smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The oldest part of the city, which the people here called the Seating, he would know better than anybody else who was still alive.

Aes sneered. Her yellowing teeth were strikingly straight. “Do you now. The newbie knows where he’s going.”

“My dear Aes, I never said I would be averse to the companionship of your escort, but merely wanted to point out that a delivery is unnecessary. Seeing as I am not some lifeless thing to be carried around.”

Everybody in the kitchen was staring at him. Solaris’ honey golden eyes were huge. “Eh?” she made and tilted her head. In that moment she looked like a curious cat.

Given that, Aes threw back her head and laughed out loud and from deep within her belly. It was a coarse sound that sent a shudder down his spine that he didn’t want to think about. She boxed him playfully in the upper arm and he had to restrain himself not to thrust the dagger, he always carried with him everywhere, into her throat. Instead he wrestled another smile on his face.

“You’re alright. Sleazier than a puddle of oil, but all right. When you’ve been here for a while, maybe you’ll even start talking like a normal person.”

Ardyn lifted his chin and tilted his head, so that he looked like a vain basilisk showing off his glorious crown feathers. “A beautiful compliment from a beautiful woman. I am truly honoured, my dear.”

“Don’t overdo it, _my dear_ ,” she said with her eyes barrowed into slits. She flexed the muscles of her naked arms. A truly impressive number of little burn scars dotted her dark skin.

 _This woman would make a fantastic deamon_ , came the unexpected thought. A humming voice sounded in the hall outside and shortly after Healer stepped into the kitchen carrying a dented cooling box.

“Fish,” cried Astra over a chorus of greetings. “Fish, tata, fish.”

Healer laughed and tousled the boy’s black locks. “That’s right. There’ll be fish at dinner. There’s so many of them that mati most certainly ’ll need help to prepare them.” He cast a meaningful look at Solaris whose eyes grew huge in excitement. Hopefully, she stared at her parents. Ardyn thought it absolutely adorable. He was astounded to discover that he actually meant that.

“After breakfast, little sun,” admonished Hiemi Hestia as the girl turned to run out into the backyard.

If one wanted to call it that. In Ardyn’s humble opinion that was a very generous term for little more than an area of nearly dead earth and a small miracle garden in one corner.

“But mati,” pouted the girl.

“’But mati’ nothing. Don’t you want breakfast? If you go now you’ll not get anything until lunch.”

“I wanna, too. Mati, I wanna, too,” said Astra and tugged at Hiemi Hestia’s sleeve.

Ardyn saw how she closed her eyes and prayed for patience and was incredibly glad that he didn’t have to do that anymore. He could be the cool grandfather that would do with his grandchildren what he had always forbidden his own children. That will be so much fun. He could already imagine the looks Hiemi Hestia and Healer would sport. Aes looked at him with raised eyebrows. He only shrugged.

“You’re still too young, little star. When you’re as old as your sister, then you can help,” said Hiemi Hestia while crouching down in front of the boy.

“But I wanna help now.”

“Would you like to help your father instead, hm? How does that sound?”

The young child looked at his mother, the tears that had been threatening to spill suddenly forgotten and nodded enthusiastically. She hugged him and grinned at her husband who looked at her in utter betrayal.

“Good. And now breakfast.”

Hastily Astra climbed into his high chair next to Solaris who swung her legs impatiently. Healer gave Hiemi Hestia and his two children a kiss, at which Solaris made a face she clearly didn’t mean, and sat down across from Ardyn. The rest of the breakfast went over fast with the excited babble of the children and Lucis Caelum definitely-not-flirting. Ardyn wanted to bash his head against the nearest surface in exasperation every time he saw it. He hadn’t thought that that was inheritable.

At least Aes brushed the crumbs from her gloves – he wondered at that but he had no room to talk – and stood up. “So. I’ve got to go before one of the newbies does some idiotic shit again. It’s supposed to rain this midday. And you’ll follow me.” She pointed at him.

Ardyn nodded readily and stood up, also, while asking himself what she meant with rain because he could still move his knee with relative painlessness. Why had he let himself be talked into this again? Ah yes, because his family had asked him to. He sighed inwardly and dipped into a deep bow towards the whole room. But he especially bowed to Healer. He should be king right now, not the line of his traitor of a brother whose name wasn’t worth the breath it took to utter it.

“At last, work is calling. Please try not to miss me too much.”

He grinned, unabashed, as he earned himself disbelieving faces. Healers face looked like he bit into something unexpected sour. Aes rolled her eyes and Hiemi Hestia hid a grin behind her hand. Astra slid out of his highchair and ran the short distance to hug him. More precisely, he hugged his leg, little fingers twisting the sturdy material of Ardyns work trousers and his face pressed against his thigh.

“Aden not go,” he babbled near unintelligible.

Helplessly Ardyn looked to Healer who looked back just as confused as he felt. It would be comical if there wasn’t a child hanging at his leg. The corners of Aes’ mouth twitched tellingly, but still she looked like she wanted to go right now thank you very much. He tried to loosen the little hands from his trousers but Astra just pressed closer.

“Now, come little star. I will not be away for long,” Ardyn tried but it was useless.

“Aden _not go_!”

In the end Hiemi Hestia came to his aid – the dawn bless that woman. Her eyes were twinkling merrily as she tried to suppress her laughter and didn’t quite succeed. “You know the sooner you let Ardyn here go, the sooner he’ll be back. And if you’re a real good boy maybe he’ll even play with you once he’s back,” she said.

“Really?” asked Astra and looked at him with his big storm grey eyes.

Ardyn tried to smile. It felt like a grimace. “Really,” he said. Oh that traitor. He took everything back. Hiemi was as cold as Shivas glaciers.

“Okay,” grinned the boy, skipped in that clumsy manner of his over to his father and climbed onto his lap.

Relieved, Ardyn took a deep breath and looked at Hiemi Hestia who had at least the decency to look apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quietly. “Until evening he probably won’t even remember it.”

He nodded. It was a weak comfort.

“As that crisis’s been averted: goodbye. I’ll come over again in a few days to service your water cleaning station.” Aes marched out the door.

Hiemi Hestia handed him a full thermos and with a last wave he, too, left the kitchen. Astras answering wave was enthusiastic. Aes’ steps were brisk and fast as if she wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Ardyn had no trouble following her. Looking at her face, maybe that was exactly what she had wanted.

“Did I do something to earn your ire, my dear?” Ardyn asked greatly amused by the situation.

Her black dreadlocks seemed to bristle like a coeurls whiskers before it attacked its unsuspecting prey. Her striking light brown eyes flashed aggressively. “I don’t know why you’re here and frankly, I don’t care but I don’t trust someone who comes down here from the Above out of the blue. If you even think for a second you can harm Healer and his family, I’ll cut you up and bury your pieces where no one’ll ever find them after I’m finished. And trust me, I won’t lack for help.”

She would make for a truly impressive Naga.

Ardyn didn’t know if he should be amused or indignant. On one hand he knew that threat for what it  was, but on the other was Healer his family and if there was one person who would never harm him, it was Ardyn.

“Then it will be reassuring to hear that I was born and raised in the north of Cavaugh. I’m but a simple man with an interest in history and its secrets.”

Aes stared at him utterly unimpressed and continued walking. They turned right from the Old Boulevard and walked along a path whose loose stones wobbled under their steps and led them downwards in a gentle slope.

“Oh, you’re more than a simple man,” she snorted and picked up her pace to get ahead of him.

Ardyn blinked after her, utterly astonished. The people down here were delightedly blunt and seemed to have a better intuition than everybody else in Insomnia. That could prove to be annoying if he wasn’t careful.

* * *

 

The air was equally damp, dusty and heavy with forgotten history as Ardyn and Aes arrived at the ancient ruins where the entrance to the tunnels, that Fodio and his crew had located some days ago, were located. Even if in Deep City there existed a great number if not necessary large sunspots, everything here lay under a blanket of cool shadows. Everywhere between the crumbled walls of old buildings stood electrical lanterns and spread their stark white light that cast everything into sharp contrast. It gave the impression of this being an entire unknown world just waiting to be explored. A world where the sun had never reached the stone and every corner breathed the unknown.

Ardyn knew this part of the city. It was the town that had been part of Solheims colonies that had survived the Astral War and he, with the help of his magic and influence, had turned into a bustling city. For the blink of an eye he could see it, still under its old name, houses with their small inner courtyards and flat roofs, streets upon which two carts could pass each other without trouble and without inconveniencing other passersby, magnificent buildings in the style of the waning years of Solheim that took more stock in the power of their emperors than the Gods. Here had been the beginning of the end. Ardyn suppressed a shiver crawling up his spine with shadowy fingers.

They arrived at an old plaza that had been paved with lightly coloured slabs of stone. It was surrounded by walls of crumbling houses that in some places still managed to be higher than he was tall and whose entrances and alleyways stared at them with empty darkness. Broken pillars lay where they had fallen like broken limbs and in the middle of the plaza a crumbling pedestal stood upon which only a pair of feet still remained. The statue was nowhere in sight. Ardyn couldn’t remember whose statue it had been. Loose stones on the ground made for easy tripping if a person was not careful.

Around him it was busy like a hive of bees. People who manufactured beams from metal, debris workers looking for usable materials, children, ten years or older, that transported water from the nearest well which was a few hundred metres away. He saw a group of tinkerers standing around a heap of useless artifacts and disputing over it, stonemasons and construction workers looking carefully through the remnants of the buildings. Some of which had been built into the surrounding rock walls.

Insomnia had been built within and around a gorge and as the city grew and the city walls had been built it started to stack itself on top of each other to preserve space. Right now they were at a relative narrow point between two stonewalls and over their heads sat a forest of bridges, beams and pipes that supported some of the houses of the ghetto and working districts under the government district above them.

“My, oh my, that is quite the crowd,” Ardyn noted.

It was true. As it had sounded two days ago, he had expected a short excursion where he would carry a few stones and help catalogue a few artifacts, if they should indeed find some. Whispers of secret tunnels in the stone had been going around even as he and Gilgamesh had entered the town for the very first time.

Aes made an amused sound at the back of her throat. “Are you joking? This’s the biggest event since Ivalice Electronic dumbed their junk down here two years ago. I mean Fodios little projects have always kept people busy, but this.” She shook her head. “If you’ll truly stay as Healer thinks you’ll do, you have still so much left to learn.”

She swept her gaze over the busy crowd and Ardyn noticed how she got more and more impatient. A steep wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as her frown grew darker and darker.

“Hey Markus!” called Aes in her hoarse voice and a man emerged from the circle if tinkerers. He was nearly as tall as Ardyn himself with thinning hair and strong muscled arms. On his right hand he lacked a pinky and ring finger.

“Salve Aes. What’s up? And who’s that?”

“This‘s Ardyn,” she said and pointed at him with her thumb before he could open his mouth to introduce himself. How rude. “He’s living at Healers since all of three days ago and supposedly ’s an expert in history. He got volunteered. You seen Fodio around? That ass was supposed to meet us here. Typical. I don’t have the time to play sitter. Don’t even know why I bother.”

„Do not let me keep you, my dear. I assure you, I am perfectly capable to find my way from here on my own. In which direction lays the entrance to these tunnels?”

The question he directed at Markus who scratched the stubble on his chin in a thoughtful manner and pointed across the plaza. “Over there. Follow the path along the rock wall ‘til you get to an open area that looks like an arrowhead. You cannot miss it.”

“My humble thanks,” said Ardyn and waved carelessly before turning around and walking in the indicated direction past a group of men and women armed with the tools of stonemasons that stacked loose stones into different piles while trying to talk over each other.

“Sleazy guy, that. Seems like a real piece of work. Where’d Healer find him?” he heard Markus ask behind him. By the time Aes answered he was too far away to hear.

Ardyn turned left into an alleyway that was narrower than most others. Here the ground was very uneven because of burst and cracked slabs of stone, so that he had some trouble navigating in the dim half-light.

It didn’t take long until he stood in front of the rock wall where the path diverged. Right in the middle, half carved out of the stone, stood a statue upon a small pedestal. Arms and parts of the flowing garments had broken off, but otherwise the statue was in a surprisingly good condition. It was a life sized woman with short hair, whose gaze once upon a time must have rested on the passersby, but time had eroded her features to the point that he couldn’t say for sure anymore.

She was a Guardian of the Way. Two thousand years ago he had often seen statues like this along his journeys especially on crossroads. If one believed in the legends they would always guide a lost soul back to the light. Ardyn snorted in derision. If that was true he would not be here today but where he belonged.

One more time he looked at her before turning away. From the corners of his eyes it seemed like she turned her head towards him. Swiftly he followed the path to the right. He came across two more of the statues even if of one of them remained little more than a pedestal and the hem of a cloak. Ardyn ducked under a fallen pillar that had crashed through the wall of the house to his right and then stood in an area shaped like an arrowhead.

It was like stepping into the definition of controlled chaos. Wheelbarrows full of rocks were pushed down another alley in a slow procession while a second one brought the beams manufactured at the plaza. People, for whom the whole happenings were too slow, cussed at others, who neither could do anything about it, little groups stood around the water barrels for a break and through all of that rushed even more people who carried work utensils or simply had to get to another destination. Somewhere something was cooking.

Tulia stood by the water barrels and watched over a group of children that were taking a break from carrying the heavy water buckets, her husband Sallust next to her. “Salve Ardyn. Did you have trouble finding your way here?” greeted Tulia without taking her eyes off the children once.

“Salve Lady Philon. The dearest Aes agreed to be my company for part of the way.”

“She actually did that? Now that’s something. That girl has nothing in her head but metal, metal and maybe a circuit or some such. Salve Ardyn. Just call me Sallust,” grumbled the old man. His fingers played absentmindedly with the edges of an old camera he carried around his neck.

“Sallust! Don’t say that. Aes ‘s a talented young woman that made her avi very proud,” Tulia reprimanded her husband. “She’s the Dogessa of the Heap-people you know. It’s not that uncommon for her family to carry that position. The Ferrums have been metallurgists and mechanics for generations now. Chalybis – that was her avi – had contacts to the Above and knew when they would throw down their junk and scrap. It’s one of the reasons why he had the position when he was alive. It was him who made our methods of recycling and reforming metal so much more efficient.”

“That fellow was an old grumbler that was drinking way too much in his last years,” grumbled Sallust.

“Just because you two could never see eye to eye with each other doesn’t mean that that he was a bad person,” shot Tulia back and Ardyn started to wonder if he shouldn’t execute a strategic retreat. Normally he would love to provoke the two squabblers and amuse himself with the fallout, but he had the feeling that that was a bad idea right now. Sallust bristled in anger and turned away without another word. Ardyn bowed to Tulia, who did not look any less angry, in a goodbye and followed the old man.

They came to an ornamental arch at the narrow end of the area. Ardyn remembered that thing. It was an art-piece sponsored by a house whose name he had forgotten. The artist had been obsessed with the time before the founding of Solheim. On the left- and right-hand sides stood statues but time had left nothing more of them than silhouettes. They stepped through and found an opening in the stone. A man came through pushing a wheelbarrow full of rubble.

The inside of the tunnel was dimly lit and high enough for Ardyn to walk upright without problems. It had to have been the work of masters, smooth surfaces and clean corners, but now cracks were showing and in regular intervals the ceiling had to be supported. Soon they came to the hole in the wall where Fodio must have broken through by accident. The roughly hewn passage was shored up with even more metal poles. Even Ardyns gaze couldn’t break through the shadows. Voices and footsteps echoed from the walls mixed with the rhythmic cracking of metal against stone.

“This was definitely constructed during the reign of Solheim but the iconography is strange. You cannot really distinguish much anymore, but…,” Sallusts voice tapered off and he motioned to a part of the wall diagonal to the cut-out. There hung a softly glowing lantern from the ceiling and illuminated a barely there relief. At first Ardyn thought the clearly visible round sphere was supposed to be the sun but when he stepped closer he could make out stars. Beneath, there were different sized shapes that looked like they were supposed to be people.

“A moon,” declared Ardyn, astonished.

“What? Solheim worshipped Ifrit more than any other of the Six and he was often times depicted as a flame or the sun. Why a moon? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“But it does,” said Ardyn, feeling like the words formed in his mouth without his input. The pain in his bones pulsated distractingly. “Traditionally, in Solheim the moon was a symbol for water, and water – figuratively – was the place of birth and where the souls of the dead went after burial. It was considered a great symbol of status in the higher echelons of society to have a full blown water-burial. Everybody else buried their dead with a water filled vessel as a grave good.”

He blinked and shook his head. Something was strange with these tunnels and it wasn’t just the depiction of a moon outside a burial site in Solheimr ruins. During his layout Sallust had stepped closer to the relief. So close in fact, that his nose nearly touched the stone. Ardyn could imagine the eyes behind the thin wire glasses as comically huge. Carefully, old fingers traced the edges of the moon. Sallusts whole body seemed to vibrate with pent up energy, but even then his face remained stern.

“Fascinating. What made people give the moon such symbolism, I wonder? What role had Leviathan in all of this? The Tidemother’s not really known for caring about what humans are up to outsider of her realm. She’s untamable like the sea and just as volatile.”

Leviathan had exactly nothing to do with this, but Ardyn kept is tongue behind his teeth and remained silent. Instead he left the old teacher to his thoughts and walked up to a junction not too far off where he followed the noise to the left. From there it wasn’t far until he came upon a group of men who were loading loose rubble into wheelbarrows. From here the tunnel was completely blocked.

“Fodio Lapis?” he asked to make himself known.

“Who wants to know?”

A man appeared in front of him, face and naked arms covered in dirt and ancient dust. His light blue eyes gazed upon the red haired man in a cool manner.

“May I introduce myself?” asked Adryn in his usual flamboyant self. “My name is Ardyn. I’m a historian specializing in ancient history and I was asked to help. The lovely Lily specified to talk to her husband, a certain Fodio Lapis. May I assume said husband to be you?”

Fodio grunted and spit out a truly impressive blob of snot. Ardyn kept the placating smile on his face.

“Ah, another one of those. Well, at least you look like you can actually work unlike the other one. Put on your gloves and muck in.”

Ardyn fished his work gloves out of the pockets of his trousers, that were deep enough to hold Hiemi Hestia’s thermos without problems, and pulled them over the thin material of his long sleeved T-Shirt that reached down to his knuckles. He wondered what the goal of this exercise was Lily hadn’t been able to say. With the devastating tremors the Astral War had caused it could very well be that these tunnels led exactly nowhere.

Regardless he started to work without another word. Fodio himself nodded appreciative of his course of action and went back to work himself, as did the others. The air was sticky and hot and it didn’t take long for Ardyns clothes to stick uncomfortably to his skin and sweat to pour down his face and neck. After a while the other workers started to cast strange looks his way. He ignored them and the hushed words exchanged. Three muscled men gossiping like housewives. In the end it Fodio evidently didn’t want to hear it anymore and as the next worker came back with an empty wheelbarrow Ardyn got sent out with a full one. He couldn’t complain.

On his way out he came across Sallust who walked along the tunnel walls with a tattered notebook in hand and wrote something down like a man possessed. Here and there he stopped to take a picture of something he deemed interesting. They nodded as they saw each other.

Outside the air still wasn’t the best but it was blessedly cooler. Ardyn, instead of joining the procession of people leaving the little square, simply dumped the contents of his wheelbarrow at the next pile of rocks lying around. His muscles burnt. It had been a long time since he had done bodily work like this. He pulled the thermos out and sat down on a low stonewall near the water barrels. Tulia saw him and started to walk in his direction.

“Would you like some water?” she asked in a friendly manner. In her hand she carried a metal cup. In answer he held out his thermos. The sweet smell of citrus and mint wafted out. Carefully he took a sip. He couldn’t feel any magic emanating from within but it was better to be safe than sorry when green mages were concerned. Especially green mages who were also competent herb witches. The tea was refreshingly cool.

Tulia laughed brightly at his actions. “Don’t worry. Most teas Hiemi makes aren’t poisoned. They’re rather more likely to help with whatever problem one might have.”

“That’s good to know,” Ardyn said softly.

The small old woman nodded as if he knew exactly what he meant. A scary thought, that.

“Did Fodio send you out for a water break? You look like you could melt into a puddle at any moment now. No offence. Here. Maybe that’ll help a bit.”

With raised eyebrows he watched as she rummaged through the pockets of her apron until she held out a hair tie in triumph. Disbelieving, he took it, thought about the heat in the tunnel and shrugged. Is hair was slick with sweat and as wild as ever when it was shorter than shoulder length. Many strands immediately escaped the confines of the very short tail and stuck to his forehead and cheeks, but his neck was blessedly free now.

“My most sincere thanks, my lady.”

“There’s nothing to thank me about,” giggled Tulia. “We should continue with our work, shouldn’t we? Please tell Sallust that he should not forget to come out of these tunnels and take a water break. The Gods know that, when he finds something that captivates him, he forgets everything else around him.”

Ardyn stood up and nodded. Until now this work had demanded less of his ‘expertise’ in early history than he had thought it would, but it wasn’t bad. The other workers could gossip as much as they wanted so long as they left him alone. Right now he had too much on his mind to engage in any fancy kind of word fencing.

During Ardyns second tour with a wheelbarrow Fodio announced it time for the lunch break. Curious he followed the others out of the tunnel to an improvised table fashioned out of two piles of stone and a sheet of metal. On it stood rows upon rows of bowls filled with something that had a consistence somewhere between mush and solid and had the colour of shit. Tulia filled cup after cup with water while two teenagers filled the bowls until there wasn’t any space left on the table and started stacking. Ardyn took one and a tarnished spoon and sat down on his earlier spot upon the stone wall. Curious eyes followed his every move. He took a bite. Ash and old blood.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? My name’s Casto. Yours is Ardyn, right? If you need something don’t hesitate to ask.”

Ardyn looked up from his food and was a teenager, maybe sixteen years of age, thin as a whip with long limbs, that he still had to grow into. He had Fodios angular face and the same blue eyes. The redhead nodded and, as if that had been an invitation, the boy sat down next to him.

“There’re not many newcomers down here. Near the Shadow Market it’s more common, but there’s so much going on at that place one can lose track of it all, y’ know? Not if you’re an overseer, obviously. Or a debt collector. Down here in Deep City however a new face is much more noticeable. Not as much near Healer, because there’re new people all the time. In fact, he was the last new person. You’re living with him, right? That must be really exciting. The worst thing I ever visited him for was a broken bone, but even that was awesome. Tata doesn’t like it at all, but he really doesn’t like anything that even remotely has a connection to religion.”

Did that boy ever stop talking? If he would drown in his own blood right now Ardyn wouldn’t complain. Before he could think about the best way to go about it without it being traced back to him, Fodio appeared out of the chattering crowd, his face as dark as a storm cloud.

“Uh-oh,” breathed Casto next to him so quietly that he nearly missed it.

 “Casto, stop talking the new one’s ear off and start preparing for the next shift. You’ve had your break already.”

“Yes, yes,” sighed the boy in an overdramatic manner, Ardyn found strangely endearing, and stomped off.

“Worse than his mother,” grumbled Fodio under his breath.

Ardyn grinned but said nothing instead he tried to eat more of his lunch only to abandon that notion after one more mouthful. The other man looked for a moment like he wanted to say something but he only shook his head and walked over to a group of people that looked like their heated discussion may soon devolve into a fistfight.

Ardyn wasn’t left alone for long before Tulia was there again. “I’m really sorry to disturb you during your break, but may I ask you for a favour? Could you please tell Sallust to come for his own lunch break? I think he should still be in the tunnels. Honestly, that man is driving me to insanity. If I’m gone too long from the water barrels there will be at least one accident guarantied. It’s like Eos has conspired against me.”

As if to support her words heated young voices rose by the water barrels. Tulia looked at him beseechingly. Afterwards Ardyn wouldn’t know why he said what he said in that moment, but he pushed everything on Healers influence – even if had only been three days – and that was why it was his fault.

“I can perfectly hear what you mean, Lady Philon. Would you be a dear and take that with you?” He held out his barely touched lunch.

“But you barely ate something!” she protested.

 “Do not fret. I fear I have simply spoilt my appetite this morning.”

Tulia looked very skeptical but as the raised voices behind her grew even louder she gave in and took the bowl. “I will set it aside for when you come back,” she promised and strode away.

He would have preferred if someone else ate it so that he wouldn’t have to. Otherwise it would simply be a waste of good resources. Standing up he stretched until his spine cracked and made his way back into the tunnels. The air smelled of dust, age, sweat and something he could not name. Sallust wasn’t near the entrance where he had seen him last so he went further in.

It was eerily quiet now that the workers had left. Ardyn pushed the uncomfortable feeling aside that told him that something bad was about to happen. It was simply coming from being encased in stone again, even if he could leave at any time he told himself. He came to the junction. If he went left he would arrive at the current working place. Straight ahead the tunnel described a gentle curve and came to a stop at another cave in.

Had he followed the way ahead he would have found Sallust, just out of sight, studying the image of a mysterious woman that had been depicted without eyes. They would have left the tunnels; Sallust would have gotten a stern talking to by Tulia for the thousandth time and after the lunch break was over Fodio would have found his son Casto dead from a rock fall in the tunnel next to a neat row of wheelbarrows. He would have blamed himself for the rest of his life.

But Ardyn hesitated for just a short moment and heard a noise coming from his left. So he followed the quiet rumble of stone sliding against stone and saw how Casto pointed the beam of his torch into an opening that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the break. The boy heard his steps and turned around.

“Oh, Ardyn,” he said sounding more relieved than anything else. “For a moment I thought you were tata. We’re nearly through. Here, you see? If I hold the torch just right you can make out a silhouette.”

The red haired man raised a similarly coloured eyebrow. “I… do not think that this is what Fodio meant when he said you should prepare for the new shift.”

His feet were nailed to the ground. For some unexplainable reason the scourge in his blood didn’t want him to go any nearer to what was behind those rocks and at the same time it craved to get there. How strange. Casto made a face.

“There was an air draught,” the boy defended himself. He waved his hand in the direction of the small opening. “So I thought it wouldn’t take much more and moved one of the rocks. The rest came down with it. Maybe there’s something valuable in there. Some kind of ancient treasure the Solheimr hid, or something.”

That boy was way too excited for Ardyns taste. Why was he so excited? The scourge hissed and churned behind his eyes. He had to really concentrate to hold it back. He could barely think straight. Maybe that was one of the reasons why it happened.

A sweet air draught caressed his cheeks. It was cool and smelled like fresh grass during sunrise. He could nearly picture it. Then it was like he could hear blood dripping down on stone – a sound he was more familiar than he was comfortable with – and that spark of light and the scourge within him reared up against each other. Groaning in sudden pain Ardyn dug the fingers of one hand into his hair while bracing himself with the other against the wall.

“Ardyn?” asked Casto and took a few unsure steps in his direction, steps, which would save his life.

Again, fresh air, now more a gust of wind followed by a presence pressing against his own. It was old. Immensely old, tired, half dead and full of light. Light that was reaching for his, what little there was left of it, that kept him from falling into insanity entirely, and tried to rip it out of its prison within his bones. Ardyn didn’t know what would happen if the presence succeeded. How he would hold the scourge, which over countless years had infested deeper and deeper parts of him and rotted them away, back. Without thinking about what he was doing he fought against that ancient thing. He felt as if drowning in blood.

The earth quaked. Was he imagining that? No, that was real. A startled gasp escaped Casto who tripped into him and pulled both of them onto the ground. They fell hard. For but a moment the resulting pain let everything come into focus again and instead of pulling with his magic, he gathered every bit of strength he had left into his light, the origin of his white magic, and _pushed_.

Searing pain shot through every nerve in his body and he nearly lost his consciousness. He wished that he had. Dark ichor stained his teeth and lips black and as if through wool he could hear a boy screaming.

What was happening?

What-?

Stones rumbled. One the size of his head came down so close that it scraped his skin. Shelter. They needed shelter. Hands pulled at him and he scrambled to stand up but he didn’t have the strength anymore. The earthquake was getting worse by the second. More stones rained down around them. Panicked sobbing reverberated oddly loud and clear in his ears. It sounded like a child.

Suddenly Ardyn opened his eyes with a gasp. There was nothing but inky blackness around him but that didn’t matter. Darkness he knew better than himself some days.

With a strength that surprised even him he threw his whole body on top of the boy’s and reached for his magic that was still grappling with the presence. It started to weaken, to pull back. He forced as much of his white magic as he could through the aggressive shroud that was the scourge and shouted one word.

_In the name of the merciful Mother, by the holy rays of sun and moon, please._

_Please._

“Protes!”

_Let this work._

Splintering, like breaking glass. A wheeze.

Pain. Pain, pain pain _painpainpainpainpainpa-_

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *incoherent screaming*  
> This chapter was kicking my ass. Holy cheescake.  
> Well, now you all know where the earthquake comes from... or not.  
> Surprise! The meta plot glimpses through the cracks!  
> Heap-People is an umrella term spanning every job that has anything to do with metalworking. From smiths to mechanics. This is because the source of nearly every peace of metal in Deep City comes from the huge place Insomnia uses as their junk yard. The term 'Dogessa' is (as far as I know) of my own creation and comes from 'doge' i.e. the guy who was voted as head-honcho in Venezia. It's where the English word 'duke' comes from. This all means that Aes is the boss of all things metal.  
> So, names:  
> Chalybis means 'steel' in Latin. He was Aes' grandfather and has been dead for a few years now. Also, he was once Doge of the Heap-People.  
> Fodio is also Latin and comes from 'fodere' which means 'to dig/rummage'. He's the master builder of Deep City.  
> Casto, also Latin (go figure) means 'religious/pious/faithful'. He's Fodios son and has a very devil-may-care attitude.
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	13. Noctis V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earth is shaking, a mysterious presence searches desperately for something and Noctis tries to help where he can however he can.
> 
> Warning: blood, injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note at the beginning for this once.
> 
> Quick disclaimer: I have absolutely no experience concerning anything medical, so that aspect gets pretty glossed over. I did a bit of light research about the injuries that come up this chapter to tangentially know what should be done against what they're actually doing in the story because magic.

_7.31.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The earth shook.

Suddenly and without warning. But there never was one with thing like this, wasn’t there? Why was there an earthquake at all? Why now? Somewhere glass splintered. It sounded like thousands of sheets breaking at once. Metal screamed under its own weight of thousands of metric tons. Stone grinded against stone, groaning like old men ready to topple over.

 _Now the city falls down on our heads_ , Noctis thought dimly.

Who the fuck had even come up with the idiot idea of building a city in layers on top of each other? It must have been one of his ancestors. Only they thought that these crazy ideas would actually work in the long run. One could call it an inheritable trait in the family. But if he ever met that one he was going to wring their neck.

A new tremor made Astra cry out in fear again. The boy buried deeper into his arm, face pressed against his neck and small fingers twisting the material of his tunic. The little body shook like a leaf in the wind. Noctis tightened his hold again.

Deeper into the house he could hear his wife calling for Solaris and the scared screams of the patients. Suddenly a pained cry sounded over it all. Pots clattered, dished fell to the ground and shattered into a million sharp pieces. His ears rang but he only held his son closer, still. There was nothing else he could do. Oh, how he hated it.

“Everything’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’ll be over soon. Schhhh. There, there. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. Tata is here.”

He had no idea how long he was murmuring comfortingly into his son’s ear, or how long the earthquake actually lasted, but finally the ground was still again – like it was supposed to be – and the world held its breath. Something washed over him. The tattered scraps of a presence, the last remains of a disappearing will. Clear as the stroke of a gong it reverberated within him and pressed the air out of his lungs. His eyes hurt so bad they teared up and he could taste blood in his mouth. There was none.

Noctis curled his own presence around his son’s in the hopes of sparing him this. He had no idea if he succeeded. Astra whimpered pitifully.

The presence tore at his white magic. It hurt. It hurt so much. Noctis bit his tongue until he tasted blood for real. In a near blind panic he reached for it, tried to ascertain what it wanted from him, where it had come from.

_I have to protect my son. Don’t you dare to touch my family!_

Something answered. There were no words, just echoes of impressions and feelings. Noctis had no idea, nor the time or the mind, what to make of it.

_Light… burning… darkness eating… pain… painpainpain… my heart – where?... Child!... Child?... son… my child, my son… hurt-pain-fire-traitor!_

Then it was gone.

It left him feeling depleted and empty, furious and aching down to his bones. A keening noise escaped his throat, but he didn’t dare to move quite yet, or release the hold on his son still clinging to him like his life depended on it or take down the barrier he had cast around him when the earthquake had first started.

The furious roar of a dragon made his head explode in pain.

He blinked. What- what had just happened?

A damp spot formed where Astras groin pressed into his side. Noctis had to take a deep breath to keep the hysteric laugh threatening to spill out confined in the prison of his lungs. He managed to keep it in, but barely. Astra didn’t need any more scares and his father giggling like a madman was one of those.

The barrier fell with a whisper and soft clangour. Laboriously he climbed out from beneath the massive wooden kitchen table without letting go of his son. Damn, he wasn’t even sure if he would have managed that as hard as the boy clung to him. Hasty steps sounded in the hall.

“Healer! Astra!” “Tata!”

„We’re here.”

Again and again Noctis stroked Astras black locks – so much like his own as a child – and kissed the crown of his head. “It’s over, little star. Everything is alright. Nothing to fear anymore. You were such a brave boy. Such a brave boy. My brave light.”

The door crashed against the wall with a loud thud as Hiemi with Solaris clinging at her hand ran through. The girl’s face was worryingly white and stained with tears. Sobbing loudly she threw herself into his arms. It took some maneuvering, but in the end he sat in the ground, where the shards of broken dishes and glass didn’t reach, embracing both of his children.

Hiemi was right behind her. She fell to her knees beside him and they pressed as close to each other as they could manage. They traded relieved glances, and then they were kissing. It was relief, love, an ‘ _I am glad you are here’_. As their lips separated Noctis pressed his forehead against hers and kept his eyes closed, just breathing in her familiar scent and holding his family as close as he could. All four clung to each other as if fearing they could be separated at any moment.

He would have to stand up soon to look after his patients. Hopefully no one had been hurt. Was Ardyn okay? He cursed that phones didn’t have a reception down here, now more than ever. How were the people doing? Up in Insomnia they must be as frightened as they were down here, even if they were in less danger. Technically. The whole city couldn’t fall down on their heads. Hopefully the old support system would hold. The crown hadn’t done anything about it since the time of his great-great-grandfather and no one down here dared to temper with it without the construction plans.

The crown.

What was his father doing right now? Cold rage paired with naked fear twisted in his gut until it all was a hard ball of something he didn’t want to deal with even if the Long Night came. Thanks to Bahamuts edicts it wasn’t even worth thinking about this.

“Thank Titan you and Astra weren’t hurt,” whispered Hiemi. Her voice was unusually shaky.

Noctis opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. Beautiful dark green, the colour of shadowy leaves during summer, glittered with unshed tears. His own eyes burnt and he knew that he wasn’t faring any better.

“We survived with but a scare,” he whispered back. The emptiness in his head that Bahamuts scream of rage had left behind started to fill itself with a wooly feeling. What could have angered the Hand that held the Sword so? It couldn’t have been Noctis himself. For years he hadn’t set a foot higher than the lowest refugee district and had bundled his magic so tight within his body that it marked his skin when he used too much of it at once. Every time a bit more. Had his control slipped during the earthquake? While the foreign presence had tried to swallow all and everything, searching for something? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t _remember_. He _couldn’t_ -

„It was so scary, tata. I was scared that the earth would eat me or that the ceiling would fall down and I wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore. Who was screaming so loudly? I’m scared of him. It was so terribly loud.”

“You don’t need to be scared of him, my sun.”

“You know who that was?” Her voice sounded so horribly unsure. Like back when she had first started to live with them.

“Yes. And you know what else I know? That he will never harm you. I will make sure of that. I promise.”

He felt Solaris’ nod against his shoulder and wondered from where his assuredness had suddenly come. Hiemi looked sharply at him from over the heads of their children. As steady as he could he returned her gaze, tried to convey his feelings to her. They would have to talk about this, he knew. But not here and not now. Not when the children could hear and so much work had to be done. The thought alone made him dizzy.

“That was no normal earthquake. Titan hadn’t anything to do with it. Since he kept the meteor from destroying us all, his influence has been widely restricted to Duscae,” stated Hiemi.

Noctis shook his head. “Did you feel it, too?”

Hiemi shuddered and tightened her arm around his waist while the other drifted over the heads of their children. Astra hadn’t said a word since this had started. It was starting to worry him. “It was as if a presence was digging through me, looking for something. It was old and powerful – much more powerful than me – and more dead than alive. I shielded Solaris from it as best as I could. It scared her half to death. What was that, Healer? There’s nothing even remotely like this described in the grimoires of my family.”

Helplessly, he grimaced. He was just glad that the presence had not tried to do the same to his wife as it had tried to do to him. The phantom pains still felt like burning hooks of sickly light had tried to dig into his insides; to nest and at the same time rip out his white magic. Old and powerful, full of grieve and unendingly furious and desperate.

“You should start to prepare the clinic for the onslaught,” said Hiemi suddenly and pulled him out of his thoughts. “The earthquake was bad. Soon there will be the first hurt coming and we’re not prepared for so many people.”

Against his will, he nodded. His stomach felt as if in a vacuum. She was right – of course she was – but he didn’t want to let go of her or his children.

“Go. I will look after the children. Petr fell down part of the steps. Look at him. You’re the best healer Deep City’s ever had. I’ll help as soon as the children are tended to.”

Noctis hated it when she was right in situations like these, when she insisted upon his sense of responsibility. Something like that he had abandoned near five years ago in a blood splattered alleyway. Carefully, he started to loosen the death grips of Solaris and Astra. Both of them protested – loudly. They quieted only as Hiemis arms came around them and could grab the material of her own dress. One last time he embraced all of them, before standing up.

“You’ll help your mati for me, okay my sun?”

He tried to step away, but Solaris shot up and grabbed his hand with all her not so inconsiderable strength.

“I don’t wanna,” she whined.

“Solaris-“

“No!”

She nearly yelled. Noctis stared at her. Only a bit more and she would burst into big and ugly tears. Helplessly he looked at his wife who had started to talk to Astra and only shrugged and shook her head as if to say: _Don’t ask me. It’s your turn to say no._

Since they had found her she had been a total father’s child. He didn’t have the time to have a long discussion with her and he really could use the help. The clinic always had too few helping hands; even when there were the odd volunteers coming from all over Deep City. So he gave in. The help from a freshly baked eight year old was better than no help, after all. Did that make him a bad father?

“Alright. But you do exactly as I say without a single complaint. Not a single one. Or you will spend the rest of the day folding laundry. Do we understand each other?”

The girl nodded, determined, her face so serious that Noctis not for the first time wondered what exactly had happened to her before they had found her. Until this day she had lost nary a word about it. He could feel her magic spark over their connection. And wasn’t it a funny thing, that. Even without him having sired her, she was still of his family. Lucis Caelum magic always recognized each other and Solaris was actually – where blood was concerned – a distant cousin of his.

“Good. Now, do you still remember how to prepare the beds? Good girl. Go up to the dormitory and make the beds. If you finish before I’m back do the others in the other rooms and after that bring every blanket we still have to the entrance hall. Can you do that for me? There’ll be many hurt people coming soon and they’ll need a place to rest and heal.”

“Yes, tata. I’ll do as you say, promise.”

He smiled ruefully at her before bending down the rest of the way and pressing a lingering kiss on her brow. “I love you, my sun,” he said. “Go.” Solaris turned and ran upstairs.

He looked after her until his girl had left the room before he grimaced down on the wet spot of pee on his tunics. His clothes and he himself had been covered in worse before, but that didn’t mean that he liked it.

“Go, look after your patients. I’ll put Astra to bed and get you a new tunic.”

“You’re a gift from the Gods, Hiemi. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Noctis smiled and pressed a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“Die in a ditch somewhere, most likely,” she grinned and hit him softly in the small of his back after maneuvering Astra around a bit.

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The day the earthquake happened, there were five people in the clinic outside his family. All of them were patients. Thankfully all of them, with the exception of Petr, had come away from the experience with a rather massive scare. Solaris sped past Noctis twice, while he worked on the man, both times nearly buried beneath either bed sheets or blankets.

Petr had been on his way down and had slipped, cracking his tailbone in the process. Thankfully it wasn’t _that_ complicated. The canal dweller whined the whole time during which Noctis numbed the pain with one of Hiemis poultices and healed the bone. Petr had to rest on his stomach for a while and after warning him not to put any pressure on the bone, Noctis hurried out of the room. Time was running short.

Hiemi waited for him in the hall with a new tunic, this one with long sleeves and a near black colour together with a sleeveless robe in the same shade with deep pockets that were already stuffed full with salves, bandages and other useful things, even a scalpel. He smiled gratefully and changed then and there before both hurried their separate ways. Her into the kitchen, to clean and to provide much needed water, and him to go to the medical storage room for more salves, bandages, healing stones and basically everything else.

His face darkened as he saw a new crack in the plastering starting near the floor and ending a bit over his head in a near straight line. They would have to check the whole house for this kind of damage. Until now the house had remained standing through tireless work, prayers and as much good will as could be mustered.

The rubber on the soles of his geta softened his steps somewhat as he hurried down into the entrance hall and to the door adverse to Hiemis workshop on the right-hand-side of the villa. The room was of moderate size, but every space possible was crammed with shelves upon shelves. Boxes full of cut up silk for bandages cluttered among them, cases with semi-precious stones, that, filled with his power helped with all sorts of things, from nausea, to headaches, rheumatism and insomnia, without him having to exert extra power, more blankets, poultices and more boxes with medical equipment.

Noctis released a deep breath, pulled his hair into a tail atop his head, and got to work.

* * *

 

He was not even halfway done with the preparations when the first yells for help sounded from the entrance. For but a second he closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. His fluttering heartbeat returned to a more normal speed. With ghostly fingers he reached for his magic that burned in his bones like a compressed sun. At once it jumped to his will and spread through his whole body in warm energizing waves. The wooly feeling still lingering in his head abated at once. Then he ran to help.

Lacerations, concussions, contusions, bruises, broken bones.

First the people came one or two at a time, like the first drops of a breaking dam, then they came all at once. Waiting people spread out in the front yard, the annexe and the entrance hall. They came so fast that space was dwindling far quicker than he had anticipated. Many of the ones brought were carried on improvised stretchers, others staggered in and hunched over where they stopped walking whimpering pitifully.

Lily brought several hurt children from the orphanage. They had been playing in one of the ruins and had been hit with falling debris as a wall near them crumbled. It was a nightmare.

After a while the faces of the people started to blur together. They all looked the same, covered in blood and full of panic and pain. Hiemi hurried between them, sorting them as best as she could while treating the worst cases to the best of her ability with salves and potions until Noctis could get to them. It was a system they had worked out years ago and it worked. Mostly.

Here and there he caught a glance of Solaris. She was white as a sheet but that didn’t stop her from bringing blankets and teas to the least wounded. Neither Noctis nor Hiemi could do without her help right now. They were desperately shorthanded.

In a short time the whole house began to smell of freshly spilt blood, innards, piss and puke. The air was sweltering with so many people in such little space and was filled with their pained screams and moans, their begging for help even though they knew they were beyond it. There were just too many.

* * *

 

Noctis saw two pictures in front of his eyes. One was his hands that were cleaning the wound beneath them, and the other was that which his magic was showing him in vivid detail. A violet-golden picture of veins and arteries, muscles, fat and layers of skin and so much more. The body under him jerked violently and he struggled to keep the leg still. The glowing water in the bowl next to him was only slowly clearing from a rusty red to its original colour.

Carefully he spun a small part of his magic into a thread so fine, that he himself had trouble seeing it, and started to sew everything back together. It was a new technique that he had invented just weeks before. It still needed fine tuning, used too much energy, time and concentration. Too much of everything. But he didn't have another choice. His medical thread had run out and even this used way less energy than simply pumping the wound full of white magic, so that it _had_ to knit itself back together.

The man beneath his bloody hands moaned miserably as the deep flesh wound on his thigh closed slowly but surely. Noctis could not spare the magic to numb his pain fully nor did he have any real anaesthetics. The ingredients for those teas were expensive and hard to come by. Instead he smeared a generous helping of a pain relieving salve on the wound and bandaged it with practiced ease. Those stitches still weren’t foolproof after all. Just as he finished, two people came with a stretcher and carried him upstairs.

Where had they come from? He shook his head. It didn’t really matter right now.

Groaning he straightened up. His joints creaked and his muscles felt like worn out rubber ropes. He staggered to his feet and took a few uneven steps forward and leaned against a wall. He had no idea for how long he had been working and the entrance hall didn’t get any emptier, but there were less and less really bad cases coming in. Noctis didn’t really want to think about why that was. The tremors in his hands ceased slightly as he tried to wipe away the blood that covered them, on his robes and shorts. It didn’t help much.

Shorter strands of his blue tinted black hair fell into his sweaty face. Not caring about the blood drying beneath his fingernails, he wiped them away. For a few seconds he simply breathed.

He saw Hiemi treating what looked like a contusion to him with a compress and a poultice and he thought he’d seen Solaris go upstairs with Vox some time ago. There were volunteers, and quite a few of them, distributing potions after Hiemis instruction, carrying equipment or helping patients from one place to another. Frankly, he had no idea where they had come from. He was just glad they were _there_.

A child stumbled towards him. The girl had a few bloody scrapes at her hands and arms and was covered in dust and little pebbles from head to toe. She panted like she had run for a long time. Noctis grabbed her by the upper arm to prevent her from falling down when her shaking knees gave out.

“Hey, it’s all right. You’re here now. Deep breaths, yes, that’s right. In and out. In and out,” he said, his voice calm, as he took deep breaths for the girl to copy. It took her a few tries, but she managed. “Now, can you tell me what happened? Are you badly hurt?”

“Fo-Fodio sent… sent me,” gasped the girl. “The tunnels caved in while there were still people in there. Also some of the ruins… collapsed and people got buried under the deb-debris. He said that I should come and get you because they can’t get… many of the people out from under the rocks without killing them.”

Her last words were nearly intelligible before she broke down in tears. Her whole body shook in heart clenching sobs. She couldn’t be older than thirteen. If Noctis could he would have hugged her, but covered in blood and other body fluids as he was, he didn’t dare to. Instead he leaned down a bit and took her trembling hand within his own.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly.

“A-Anis,” she sobbed. “You’ve got to help! Please, please help.”

„Don’t worry, Anis. I’ll go as soon as I’m able to.”

The girl clung to his arm like it was her only lifeline. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Mati was right about you, you know?”

“What was your mati right about?” asked Noctis while he guided Anis in the direction of the kitchen.

She had started to sway dangerously and her gaze was becoming glassy. She murmured something he couldn’t quite make out, but he nodded anyway. In the kitchen he sat her down on one of the few remaining free chairs. It was full of people draped in blankets, light injuries and various states of shock. Many of them just stared into the cups in their hands or at nothing at all. Some of them looked at him as he entered, but he ignored them for the most part, wrapped the still shaking girl in a blanket and pressed a cup full of soothing tea into her hands.

He found Hiemi who gave him an ether with a grim look in her eyes before he could open his mouth. Next to her stood Lily as covered in sweat and blood as they all were. He drank the ether in one go. The acrid and sour taste was hideous but the ether spread its magic through his body in gentle waves, replenishing his magic and giving him new energy. She knew where he wanted to go.

His emergency bag was, as always, beneath the coatrack. He slung it over his shoulder, checked the pockets of his robe one more time and rushed out of the clinic and down the street. Strictly speaking, the way was not that far but far enough that he had to ration his strength, if he wanted to actually help when he got there. He forced himself to slow his steps a bit. One of the ruins on the Old Boulevard had collapsed entirely. Grimly, Noctis jogged past it.

More and more he saw people covered in dust and dirt that had started to dig through the debris. Maybe looking for survivors. Maybe searching for precious belongings. Maybe just looking for something to do with themselves. The air was serious, subdued and awash with the cries of the desperate. What else could they do? For something like this there were no plans, no protocols. They had never thought something like this could happen.

It was pure chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Regis! (New person. Yay!)


	14. Regis I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regis starts to manage the crisis and also makes a really dumb decission, like Lucis Caelums are wont to do, that for some reason pays off. Not that he knows that yet.
> 
> Clarus: Regis, no!  
> Regis: Regis, yes!

_7.31.755 ME_

_Insomnia, the Citadel_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The earth shook accompanied with a deafening splintering of breaking glass. It was shortly after a quick lunch and Regis was about to sit down on the throne again for another session of tedious long audiences when the tremors surged through the marble floor of the throne room. The king, his knee too weak to carry his weight and his surprise too great to hold his balance, fell heavily upon the red cushions. His cane clattered on the ground, the sound drowned out by the shocked cries of the guards and the continuing sound of something breaking.

Clarus, next to him on the Gallery of Ministers, lost his balance and staggered. Aged hands, still filled with strength, willing and able to do their duty, held onto the elaborate railing of the gallery to prevent his knees from hitting the hard stone floor.

It lasted barely a minute, rose and fell like a giant heartbeat and then came to a stop. But it wasn’t over yet.

Regis wheezed as he slumped down like a marionette cut from its strings. His magic burned. The ring burned its stone flashing erratically like a dying star. Then the wave came. It was light it was life, held him prisoner in its devastating glory, surged through him and swallowed him. He couldn’t feel anything but the light that heedlessly rummaged through his innermost being with sickly fingers. Unending seconds later, it was gone and left nothing in its wake but silence and a strangely clean emptiness.

A bloodcurdling howl reverberated through the venerable halls of the citadel. Regis’ shocked gasp found its echo in Clarus who fell truly onto his knees. No one could match up to the dragon’s rage. The horrible bursting sound grew louder, mixed with the howls of the God and only faded as the last sounds of his rage died away.

The old king’s ears rang. His sight was nothing more than a washed out aquarelle of colours. With great shock he realized that the Lucii were truly silent for the first time since he had put on the ring. From the magic of the crystal only a faint waft of light remained and every time he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers. What in the name of the Six had just happened? All muscles in his body screamed in protest as Regis forced his head up and blinked the tears out of his eyes.

“Your majesty!”

Clarus staggered into his line of sight, his face furrowed in worry, surprise and shock. Regis took a deep breath and his lungs burned like they did after a hard and long fight. He reached out for his oldest friend. His hand shook less than he thought it would. Obediently, Clarus helped him to stand, his weight more on the taller man than his own legs. But that was to be expected. His gaze wandered through the near empty throne room. There were only him, Clarus and four guards. They all stood there, pale-faced and eyes opened wide. Regis called to them.

“Go and deliver General Leonis, Captain Drautos and Commander Fortis the following orders: The Crownsguard is to coordinate with the First Response Teams from the Emergency Management. Their assignment is to find suitable shelters for everybody who lost their home and to organize with the hospitals on the admittance of emergency patients. The Kingsglaive will secure the lower districts of the city and clear those deemed unsafe by the Ministry of City Development. The City Guard will be responsible for enforcing the curfew active from now on for every private citizen who can safely return to their home and clearing the civilian traffic off the streets. Have the Palace Watch make a headcount of everyone on citadel grounds and have the doctors on standby for any emergency that might occur. I want everyone here for a status report in two hours.”

He spoke with a calm and firm voice, like he had always been trained to do in a situation of crisis. The relief in the faces of the guards was palpable.

“At once, your majesty,” they said, bowed and practically ran from the throne room.

Next to him Clarus gasped in alarm. His firm grip turned nearly painful. “The New Wall!” he exclaimed. “Majesty, see. The New Wall, it’s -”

For a moment Regis feared the worst, that awful cracking sound still reverberating in his ears, but luckily it hadn’t come that far. The New Wall stood. Just so. Deep cracks spanned the shimmering dome that protected the whole city like spider webs.

Regis felt dizzy as his blood abruptly withdrew from his head. How could that have happened? He hoped, he prayed that the wall would hold. He didn’t know what he would do should it fall.

“What could anger a God so that he would nearly cause our most important protection to collapse?” asked Clarus perplexed. He didn’t dare to speak Bahamuts name out of fear of stoking his wrath even further. “We held true to all his edicts and laws and celebrated all the sacred days.” The latter he said more like a desperate man who prayed for salvation.

“I cannot say, old friend,” murmured Regis, but his thoughts had strayed from the emergency in front of him to something different. Or rather someone different.

_Noctis._

Had he angered Bahamut so? Was he…? Agitated, he pulled his senses inwards, felt for the link in his magic that connected him to his on since he had been born. For one heart-stopping moment he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t even find his connection to the members of the crownsguard and the kingsglaive, for Pitioss’ sake, but before the desperate grief could poison his mind entirely, he found it. Mute and dark as it had been since the day Noctis had vanished, but still there.

“Thank the Gods,” he whispered so quietly he himself barely heard the words.

Clarus turned to him, his countenance dark and serious. “Majesty. Regis -,” he made to speak, but was abruptly interrupted.

With a thunderous crack one of the side doors flew open and a member of the crystalguard stumbled through. The scales of his breast plate clanged. Shield and lance were slung over his back to facilitate running through the corridors.

“Your majesty, the crystal,” the poor man gasped while trying to bow and failing miserably at it.

“What is it?” barked Regis. How much worse could it get?

The poor guardsman winced, his gaze respectfully lowered. “Directly before the… scream its energy output went through the roof before sinking concernedly low. I was sent to you to beg of you to come as fast as possible for your expertise with the happenings of the crystal.”

Regis’ thoughts were a cluttered mess. He didn’t think it prudent to tell the man that he was not, and would never be an expert on the crystal. No one had ever truly been. Had it lost power? No, that wasn’t it. The New Wall may have been damaged but it was still standing. In concern he looked down on the ring on his finger. The Lucii and Bahamut stayed silent. Supported by Clarus, but steadier on his legs than before, he made his way to the crystal chamber. The king’s cane, made of exquisite ebony wood, lay forgotten on the cold marble floor.

* * *

 

The crystal chamber was situated at the highest point of the citadel between the four towers, behind a heavy door made of polished black ironwood. It was guarded by two crystalguards in magnificent scale armour over dark blue tunics. Their eyes scanned the semi-open room erratically but they held lance and shield at the ready in case of an attack. The king saw them a fraction of a second before they saw him and sprang to attention.

The guard that had come to get them opened the ironwood door. Right behind it there was another security door made of thick steel. The man pulled out a keycard from his tunic and held it before the magnetic reader that was hanging to their right on the wall. With an affirmative beep and a low hiss the door slid open.

Behind it was the control room with a window that reached the ceiling made of bulletproof and light shielding glass, granting an unhindered view of the crystal. Regis ignored the two men jumping up from their seats. His eyes lay only on the crystal. It still hovered surrounded by its walls of adamantium, but of its light only a weak whispery thing remained, pulsating slowly and barely visible.

“Report,” he heard his own voice say.

“Your majesty, at the same time of the earthquake happening the crystal’s energy output skyrocketed to an unprecedented degree. With the- the scream most instruments short circuited and then the light itself dimmed, indicating a very concerning lowering of its energy output. Right now the output is stable as far as we can see if far weaker than before. We can’t discern a cause for the happenings and it’s not just the output that was affected, but the signature, too. Too many of our monitoring systems are damaged to say anything concrete. Because of this we had to restrict the energy supplied to the wall.”

Regis could sense it. No, not quite. It was more like he was standing before a light source that had a different wave length as he was used to. Somehow it seemed… sickly – was that the right word? – and older. And despite it being weaker it also felt so much more powerful. Bahamuts presence had nearly completely vanished from the crystal. All of this didn’t make any sense. Only with great effort could he return his attention to the people around him.

“Can you determine what is responsible for the damages of the New Wall? Go through every system and check if the wall can be repaired.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said the man that had given the report. He didn’t wear the traditional armour of his profession but a tailored suit with a bullet proof vest over it and a baton at his belt. Now and again his fingers ghosted over it as if to reassure himself that it was still there.

Regis came to a decision.

“Open the door.”

The poor man’s jaw hit the floor.

“But your majesty! We don’t know what caused those anomalies. We can’t tell what would happen if we were to open the door to the chamber and be in direct contact with the crystal. The consequences cannot be foreseen. Neither for you, nor the New Wall. Regis, this is madness!” protested Clarus, stepping in front of him.

Part of him looked like the boy again that had nearly drowned in his ceremonial armour all those years ago when he officially swore in front of the court to be his Shield. That thought had something exhilarating to Regis. He had to suppress the hysteric laughter bubbling in his throat. Still the corners of his mouth twitched and he tried to cover it with a lenient smile. Seeing Clarus’ face told him he wasn’t doing a very good job.

Sometime soon he would need a quiet minute to collect himself. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to make the decisions that needed to be made.

“That is exactly the reason I have to go. The crystalguards are all very capable men. They do their work very well, but because of obvious reasons their research regarding the cause is restricted to the mechanical side of things.”

“I beseech you to reconsider, your majesty. Wait until the repairs on the systems are finished. If it is only a technical failure causing the anomalies there will be no reason for you to walk into danger.” _Without an heir_ was left unsaid.

“Do not worry, old friend. Nothing will happen to me.”

They looked at each other. Regis knew that nothing of this, the cracked wall or the strange behavior of the crystal, had anything to do with the earthquake, at least not under normal conditions. But this situation was not normal in the least. He had to know what that strange presence had been and why he could reach neither Bahamut nor the Lucii. Regis knew that Clarus knew it, too.

“Open the door,” he ordered again and this time Clarus stepped aside.

The guardsmen scared and nervous as they likely were, hastened to do just that. A few moments later it slid open with a quiet hiss and Regis stepped over the threshold.

The closer he got to the crystal the more he had the feeling that he was looking through a milky glass. Normally he could feel the God of War that had decided to enclose himself in the crystal clearly. Now there was nothing more than a diffuse… something. It was difficult to tell. Something like the faint rattling of swords and furious battle cries. The Lucii, too, he couldn’t reach anymore through the power of the crystal. Their souls were still in the ring that much he could tell. Carefully he sent out his senses. Those senses that every member of the Lucis Caelum line had at their disposal from the moment of their birth. It was a gift ingrained so deeply that it was carved into their very being. He didn’t dare to touch it.

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum, ba-dum._

Regis shrank back. The light wasn’t just faintly pulsating like a giant heartbeat. It _was_ a heartbeat. By the Six. What was going on? He had the feeling he was asking that too often for comfort these days. Dimly he remembered a legend that had been told in his family for generations now.

_Remember this always, son. The crystal is the soul of our star. The soul of Eos. Bahamut, our godly patron, chose our line to protect it. One day it will choose someone of our line who will save us from the starscourge once and for all. When the day comes that I die, it will be your duty to fulfill our oaths to the Gods and the crystal, like our ancestors did before us and your descendants will after you._

Mors’ voice pulsated in his head alongside the light. He didn’t want to hear it. Noctis had been chosen by the crystal.

By Eos.

Noctis.

_His son._

His innocent son, who detested vegetables as much as being the centre of attention at court, had been sentenced to an early and gruesome death at the age of five. With great effort he turned away from that line of thinking and concentrated on the task in front of him.

This time he didn’t let himself get distracted by the massive heartbeat that reverberated in his mind and shook him down to his bones. Hesitantly he pulled together the last vestiges of his own magic he could scrape together and sent them out towards his quarry. He frowned. There was light – of course there was light – but it wasn’t that clinical pristine, burning something that it had always been until now. No. This here was somehow… more alive, more natural – he didn’t think that that was the right term for it, but it was the only one he could think of – despite the sickness and the bitter desperation with which it was clinging to its existence. Maybe it was precisely because of that.

_Ba-dum._

There was hate.

_Ba-dum._

Sorrow.

_Ba-dum._

Longing.

_Ba-dum._

Love.

So much love. It unsettled Regis down to his very core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohooo!  
> We're starting to come to the politics. But first we have to survive the aftermath of the earthquake. Also, no new named OCs in this one (I'm improving!) XD  
> I made up the crystalguard. They're a bit like those guys in Lord of the Rings that guard the White Tree of Gondor. They are old and traditional, no females allowed and at least those guarding the door are wearing traditional armour and weapons. In modern times their position is more of an honorary one but military training is still a requrement.They also became a bit of a tourist attraction in recent years because armour and weapons.  
> Regis is near a panic attack with everything that is happening. It may have impacted his decision making.  
> What is going on with the crystal? - Spoilers ;)
> 
> Next up: Luna! (Finally)


	15. Luna I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Luna and Gentiana talk about God(s) and providence.   
> Featuring: Ravus adding his two gil and Bahamut being a dick in the backround.
> 
> Warning: Is this gaslighting? Probably. At least manipulation.

_7.31.755 ME_

_Province of Tenebrae, Fenestala Manor_

_Empire of Nifelheim_

 

“The Gods are not pleased.”

Luna turned around and saw Gentiana stepping next to her with lofty graveness. She stood at the edge of the sylleblossoms field that she always visited when she wanted to give herself over to the illusion of being alone. It was here she felt her thoughts being no one’s but her own. Not the empire’s that walked in and out of her home as if they had the right to everyone and everything, or the oracle’s whose responsibility rested heavily upon everything she said and did.

Mostly she came here when she could feel her smile crack in the face of those she called enemy in the privacy of her mind and thought about the could-have-beens. That Luna didn’t even dare to do in the safety of her own rooms. Behind them rose the time-honoured splendour of Fenestala Manor.

Until now, today had been a better day than most, but something had driven her out here into the warm rays of the sun surrounded by the sweet smell of her favourite flowers. There was a change in the air, new and old at the same time. It was so very confusing. But now a picture began forming and she wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.

“What has been done that the Gods prove to be dissatisfied?” asked Luna looking at her longtime companion and friend in apprehension.

Her heart started beating so fast she thought it would jump out of its prison of flesh and bone. A bitter taste spread on her tongue and she realized she couldn’t swallow properly anymore. Had she herself been remiss in her duties? Was there another issue with the prophecy? The last time Gentiana as an emissary of the Gods had told her about the Gods being dissatisfied, had been when Prince Noctis had vanished. Until this day he was hidden from their relentlessly searching eyes. As far as Luna could tell nothing had changed about that.

“Something long thought dead stirred in the depth of the city that never sleeps. The earth quaked with its waking. Bahamuts fury was audible for all who have been touched by the crystal’s light.”

Gentianas normally calm face now showed a hint of dangerous coldness. Lunas oldest and innermost instincts shrank back in a reflex she couldn’t comprehend and she didn’t dare to try and see behind that expression she had never seen on her friend’s face. With startling clarity she realized that she would die should she ever dare to try. This was a secret she should have never stumbled upon.

“I fear I do not understand,” she said quietly, forcing her voice into the soft tones of the Oracle and using it like a shield she brandished in front of her.

Gentiana held her eyes closed but her hands were more tightly clasped in front of her than usual. Despite the warm summer breeze Luna shuddered. They stayed silent for a long while.

“This one has seen much in her long life: treasured friendships, the depth of the shadows and the treachery that dwells within them, devoted love that can become passionate hate. She fears the consequences of actions taken long ago. The prophecy balances on the knife’s edge and it grows more precarious with each passing day. Soon our eternal salvation will be beyond us, so fear the Gods.”

Luna wrapped her arms around herself. The rays of the sun suddenly were bitter cold. Was Noctis well? Was he even still alive? Fear rushed through her like a wintery rain shower. No. The prophecy wasn’t null and void just yet. Even if it hurt, she did still cling to that thought with a desperate sort of strength. Prince Noctis was the Chosen King of Light as was ordained. As long as he was alive the prophecy would come to pass and as long as the prophecy existed would the godly providence protect the Chosen King. Luna was embarrassed in the face of her own weakness.

“I am prepared to do my duty, whatever may come to pass.” Her voice sounded stronger than she had expected it to be. This was something she had known since she had taken the mantle of Oracle. She would do her part to ensure the world was safe, but she would also do whatever she could to ensure that Noctis would live a long and happy life.

For the first time that day a smile graced Gentianas lips. Like every time she heard something she supported. The coldness retreated noticeably. Luna took a measured breath and straightened her back and shoulders. Loose flower petals danced in the wind in an elegant dance with the tall grass and something she couldn’t quite perceive drifted through her hair and along her cheeks. For a moment she closed her eyes in contemplation.

Something had changed. It was something fundamentally important. She couldn’t say what it was. Next to her Gentiana tilted her head. Black strands blew into her face but she just stood there, exalted as always, rigid as ice and tenser than Luna had ever seen her.

“This one has to express her gratitude. The Oracle has become a strong and wise woman.”

Luna bowed her head in thanks. “Can the Gods still not find Prince Noctis?” she dared to ask, feeling that she had to after holding it back for so long. Bending down, she ghosted her fingers over the blue petals of a sylleblossom.

Noctis had loved these flowers from the first moment he had seen them. They were a symbol of the Oracle, of purity, cleansing and healing, a sign of femininity and strength. Legend said that the first sylleblossom flowered when Bahamut blessed her line. During the early days of the Tenebraean kingdom, people had used the flowers together with sage and salt to ward off deamons.

Everyday she’d had to tell the young Noctis these stories while she pushed his wheelchair through the fields. He asked thousands of questions about how it was to be an oracle, even if she hadn’t been one then, and to heal people. She answered him as detailed as Bahamuts edicts would allowed her to. At the end of every talk the prince looked disappointed, like he had expected more. He tried to hide it, but she was able to tell easily. Luna wished she knew what he had been thinking.

 _Is it such a crime to bring white and black magicks together?_ She startled so violently at her own blasphemous thought that she abandoned it at once.

“The Chosen King stays behind a shroud the Gods cannot pierce. But Adagium unknowingly pulled that shroud back, if only for an instant. His power found an echo, for they are connected by providence. The Chosen King is there, in the city that never sleeps, but where exactly remains a mystery.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much,” sobbed Luna, feeling tears of relief burning in her eyes. Everything would be alright and if fate was amendable she would see her best friend and brother of her heart one more time before she had to give her life to keep the light in this world. It was her greatest wish.

A cool hand came to rest on her shoulder. Gentiana stood there, slightly bending down to her with a warm smile on her lips. Her face remained strangely cold and unmoving.

„Maybe it is time to write another message. The heart of the Oracle is strong. She will be able to reach him where not even the Gods could.”

“Yes.”

Despite the heaviness in her chest she returned the smile. It had broken her heart when Umbra had come back over four years ago without an answer from Noctis on her last message. With a whine the trusty messenger rolled up in a corner of her room and not even Pryna was able to cheer him up. Ravus was furious when he saw her tears. How he raged and raved against King Regis, the whole line of the Lucis Caelums, Prince Noctis and her own willingness to face her fate head on.

_This is futile, Lunafreya. When will you finally learn to let go of your ridiculous notions? Your beloved prince has abandoned you like his damned father has done with our mother! Nothing will change that._

Noctis hadn’t left just her behind, but also his father, his friends who he had mentioned in every other of his numerous messages over the years they had been communicating through the little red book. He had even abandoned the Gods. For a long time she had been bitter about this, hadn’t wanted to believe it and had sent Umbra out time and again and after every unsuccessful venture her trusted friend had lain at her feet, whining. He, too, missed Noctis.

As time went on she realized that all her frustration and bitterness didn’t matter if only she could see him again and make sure he was happy. Until this day she didn’t understand what had made him do this but over the course of long sleepless nights she had forgiven him, even if he may not deserve it. Her life was too short to cling to these negative feelings.

Now her long buried hopes flared up again and she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. After a moment she decided to brush the tears from her eyes and to stand up, a determined look on her face. It was time to write another letter. Something fundamental was about to change. Page for page, word for word she would bare her heart to him, all her hope, all her love.

And this time her message would reach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fast one. But then I already had most of this chapter written out when I started publishing this behemoth of a story. And things are moving!  
> Gentiana/Shiva is... lskfdjs  
> She's deep into the prophecy business and she'll make sure the Nox Fleurets do ther job 'the right way'. It's why I warned for gaslighting/manipulation.  
> Luna was harder to write than expected. She's a spine of steel wrapped in silk but she's also being manipulated into following what Shiva and Bahamut want. The balance is difficult and I hope I was able to convey this. Her faith is a huge part of her backbone and also part of what made her survive in the toxic environment of an occupied Tenebrae. Her breakdown when she realizes what is actually going on will not be pretty.  
> Ravus is all worry and love for his sister wrapped in angry barbs and long lingering issues. He'll... play a role.
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	16. Noctis VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ardyn, Casto and Sallust are found, a meeting in Noctis' kitchen reveals some very bad news, he and Hiemi have an argument and Noctis learns a very large part about what is wrong with Ardyn.  
> Featuring: the second stage of grief, non-realistic fantasy construction of a city, the starscourge and my non-existant medical knowledge.
> 
> Warning: Character death, mentioning of child death (that is not happening) and gore

_7.31./8.1.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The floodlights nearly blinded Noctis as he tilted his head back and let the cool water enter his mouth. It was a balm for his throat that had become scratchy with the heavy dust in the air. He sat the empty cup down and wrapped the ragged piece of cloth back around the lower half of his face. Not that it helped that much, but it was something.

Not far from him he heard Tulia fret over a small group of young adults not much older than him that were taking a short break from digging themselves. Everybody was exhausted but still they kept going. While he had helped to free the people stabbed through with pieces of metal and buried under fallen pieces of wall, someone had gone and erected a tarp, now serving as a roof for one of the old buildings, and converted it into an improvised sick bay.

Six people still lay there; out of mortal danger now but still hurt because there were still missing people and he needed to conserve his strength. Hiemis ether had helped a lot, but taking too many of them in too short a time was dangerous.

Noctis leant back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes for a moment. Hopefully everything was well at the clinic. Over the years his wife had grown into quite the nurse and Lily was a midwife. They would be able to manage it, he was sure.

His jaw cracked with a bone weary yawn as he stood up, ignoring his aching limbs, and proceeded to trot back towards the tunnels. They were nearly through Fodio had said when Noctis had gone to take a break – he wasn’t fit to dig all night long, damn it. He sincerely hoped that they were. The people wouldn’t be able to go on for much longer even with Fodio fanatically spurring them on. Noctis could understand him, truly, he could, if it was his own son buried in a cave-in he would do much the same, but tired and exhausted people made mistakes and mistakes got them hurt and he just didn’t have the energy anymore.

He stepped out of the way of a woman pushing a full wheelbarrow, her black hair grey with dust and a tired smile in her eyes. “We’re nearly through,” she said, her voice muffled by the shawl slung around her mouth and nose. “Fodio said he can already see them through a gap between the rocks.”

Noctis nodded relieved and mumbled a tired thanks. The woman bowed her head slightly and walked on without another word. He stumbled slightly when his geta caught a loose rock. Damn, he wore the wrong shoes for this. He stuffed his hands into the now much emptier pockets of his robes and trudged on.

Fodios deep rumble of a voice echoed around him the moment he entered the tunnels, sounding more at ease and more agitated at the same time. He was definitely talking to somebody even if Noctis couldn’t make out the answers. He rounded the corner and pressed against the wall to let more people through.

“Fodio?” he asked.

The man stood in front of what remained of the cave-in flashlight in hand, and stared intently through a gap between the stones. The pale face of his son looked like a ghost in the harsh ray of the flashlight. Something tense within Noctis loosened at the sight. If the teenager was conscious and talking he should be fine. Mostly.

“Get over here, Healer,” the gruff man said harshly but Noctis could see the relief in his posture, the way his shoulders weren’t quite as tense, the way his stance wasn’t so rigid. The maniac glint that had been there the whole time he had searched for his son, had finally left his eyes.

Noctis didn’t say anything about the man’s tone, now wasn’t really the time for that, and hurried over. Casto was bleeding from his left cheek and had a few deeper scrapes on his arms. The teenager grinned when he saw him.

“Healer! Thank Titan you’re here.”

“Salve Casto. Does anything hurt worse than that wound on your cheek? Can you move without constraint? Do you feel sick or lightheaded?”

Noctis stepped past Fodio and leaned into the gap as far as he dared. Castos pupils were the same size and seemed to react normally to the light, so probably no concussion.

“No, I’m alright. Nothing but a few scrapes. It’s Ardyn I’m worried about.”

“Is he with you?” asked Noctis and squinted at the darkness behind the teenager.

The boy nodded, fumbled for a second with his own flashlight before he stepped aside and pointed the ray at a figure sprawled on the ground. There was more space than he thought there would be, nearly like the fallen rocks had purposefully fallen around them. As far as he could see the older man was unconscious in a stable lateral position. That was good.

“Does he have any obvious wounds or broken bones? How is his breathing? Did he gain consciousness at all during the time you’ve been waiting?”

Casto kneeled down next to Ardyn, his ear close to his mouth. “Doesn’t have any. His breathing sounds normal and he’s been unconscious the whole time. Thought I’d lay him into the position you showed me.”

“Good. That’s good. Can you tell me what happened?” The teenager stood back up and blinked, gnawing at his lower lip in worry. “It’s ok, whatever it is, I won’t judge you, I promise,” Noctis tried to soothe. He needed to know. Every little detail could be important.

“I- I don’t really know,” Casto started, sounding like a lost little boy. “I thought I could help and was moving rocks because we were nearly through, I could even see some kind of silhouette – must’ve been some kind of statue or something – when Ardyn came. Don’t know why he was here. It was his lunch break, you know? Anyway, he comes up to me and suddenly the ground starts shaking. Ardyn, he- he threw himself over me when I stumbled into him. There were rocks falling everywhere and I honestly thought this was it. And then he yelled… something. All I remember after that is this weird reddish light and the sound of breaking glass.”

He stopped talking and swallowed thickly. Behind Noctis Fodio stepped from one leg to the other grumbling darkly: “I told you, you’re not supposed to dig around here without supervision, boy.”

Casto looked near tears. “It’s hardly his fault that the earthquake happened, Fodio,” said Noctis and shot the taller man a warning look. Now was not the time to throw accusations or ill-advised lectures around.

“Didn’t say that,” the man grumbled but kept silent after that.

“Healer! We need Healer!” somebody yelled from further within the tunnels.

Noctis turned around, muscled tensing. “I’ll go see what’s going on. When you’re through come and get me before you move Ardyn. I don’t want him hurt because somebody moved him without caution,” he said to Fodio, who nodded.

With that he hurried down the tunnels and turned left deeper within when he came back to the junction. The tunnel described a gentle curve leading to the right and down. These parts hadn’t been as affected, so it had been mostly cleared already, but still rubble hindered his steps. Thoughtlessly he ran his fingers along the wall, feeling the unevenness where reliefs adorned the stone. He might go and see them when all of this was over, he thought.

Then he saw a group of workers standing around something. As he stepped closer one man looked up, shock clear on his face.

“Healer,” the man mumbled and stepped aside, the others following his example.

What he saw made him stop in his tracks and close his eyes, but the sight had already burned itself into his mind. There, half buried under a massive rock and his head caved in, laid Sallust. Or what was left of him. Blood and brain matter shaped a grotesque halo around him and pieces of shattered boned poked out of the deformed red mass that had been his face.

Noctis took a deep breath, opened his eyes again and forced himself not to puke. One look was enough to see that someone had already beaten him to it. He couldn’t do anything anymore for the old teacher. As if on autopilot he knelt down next to the dead man and bent his head in prayer.

By the Gods, who was going to tell Tulia?

* * *

 

Noctis could feel the tiredness lurking behind his eyes. He sat in his kitchen, a half-asleep Astra in his lap, and blinked blearily at the people around him. Solaris and Vox sat in the play corner signing back and forth about something he didn’t have the energy to catch. They were way too energetic this early in the morning.

It was morning, right? It was still dark outside but from the clock on the wall it was just an hour until dawn. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. At last the children had. They had all woken up when they had come back from Grounding.

Across from him sat the Lapis brothers, Fodio and Sax, with Markus to their right. Every single one of them looked as tired and weary as he felt. They were all still covered in dust and shallow scrapes and Fodios hands had needed some healing after his mad digging and were wrapped in bandages. Next to him, a few chairs down, sat Tulia sunken down and staring listlessly at nothing. He was very worried about her.

Behind him Gammer hummed a tuneless melody while she handled making breakfast. Thankfully her rough voice mitigated some of the painful pressure in his head instead of worsening it like he feared it would. She had already been here when they’d come back, had shown him her grin full of missing teeth and kneaded copious amounts of dough. He was just glad that he didn’t have to worry about getting everybody here breakfast.

Hiemi was currently in the dormitory and the adjacent rooms looking after their patients. The clinic was packed like it had been only once before. Many of the injured lay on cots between the actual beds, a few even in the entrance hall. She would come and get him should anything serious happen. For a moment he just closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm body leaning against his chest. They won’t be able to manage this by themselves, Hiemi and him. Not with two children, three if he counted Vox, which he was very inclined to do. But who could they ask for help?

He looked to Solaris again. She and her bestest best friend were drawing now. He hated to have needed her help. She had only just turned eight and she already knew how to bandage a wound, how to recognize a concussion and how to treat fevers and colds. She entertained the patients, brought them water or tea and helped with the cleaning of the rooms. His little girl was so much more mature at this age than he had been.

It wasn’t right. Solaris should hide from her governess in the royal gardens and complain to her mother and him about etiquette lessons. Not… this. Resolutely, he pushed his bad conscience aside. If he had never come down here, he would never have found her, she would have died miserably in some dirty and abandoned alley. She was his little sun, light of his life. That _had_ to mean _something_.

With loud steps Casto stumbled into the room. The wound on his left cheek still hadn’t healed over entirely, despite the healing stone bound to his skin, and on his bruised arms and hands stuck the remains of Hiemis healing salves.

“Is he awake?” asked Noctis as the teenager sat down next to his father. The stern man softly squeezed his shoulder and didn’t take his eyes of the boy.

Without a word Casto shook his head. His lips were pressed into a firm line and his muscles were tense and wound up. This was something Noctis still didn’t quite understand about the people living in Deep City despite having been here himself for a few years now. They still practiced the traditional system of debt despite it having been abolished all across Lucis over three hundred years ago. Ardyn had saved Castos life while risking his own, had done so seemingly without an ulterior motive. This meant that Casto owed Ardyn a life debt. The redhead held the teenager’s life in his hands.

The murmured conversations around him fell silent. Dully, Noctis wondered what he should do now. He was just so tired. Just enough magic remained in him to avoid a nasty case of stasis – he didn’t need that on top of everything else, thank you very much. He dropped a kiss on his son’s head.

“Do we know how many have died?”

The words felt heavy on his tongue but he managed to force them past his numb lips. Somebody had to ask. Why not him? Next to him Tulia started to cry again, deep, heartbreaking sobs that shook her whole body. Noctis had to make an effort not to make a face. He still had absolutely no idea what to do when someone was crying in his vicinity.

As if she had been summoned, hurried Hiemi into the room and straight towards the grieving old woman. “Sshhhh,” she made softly, gathered her within her arms and rocked slowly back and forth. It took a bit for the loud sobs to die down, even if she was still crying.

“Come, I’ll make some tea for you,” murmured his wife and stood back up again, her arms still around the older woman and walked her over towards the kitchen counter where Gammer was already laying out several kinds of tea leaves.

“From what I’ve heard there’re twelve dead not counting the four that died here, but they’re still digging by the Shadow Market and down by the Heaps,” said Markus with a grim face. The three remaining fingers on his right hand thrummed restlessly against his muscular upper arm.

Sixteen.

A noisy breath escaped Noctis’ lungs. It tasted stale and metallic on his tongue. On one hand those were sixteen lives lost. Lives he hadn’t been able to safe, but on the other it was only sixteen. It could have been so much worse. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tulia. Instead, he had to think about all the desperate children and adults he had treated today – yesterday? So, so much worse.

No one knew with certainty how many people lived in the bowels of Insomnia – Noctis had had to laugh as he realized that that impossibility was in fact a reality. There were too many individual groups down here governing themselves, if they had some kind of government at all. Noctis himself had a register of near two thousand people, including those that came to him from the ghettos and, which was even rarer, those coming from the refugee districts. And he was by far not the only healer here. Moreover he had started to keep a comprehensive record only two years ago. He sighed.

“From those twelve, do we know who…?”

Helplessly Markus made a face and shrugged. It visibly bothered him to talk about this. Especially in front of Tulia, if Noctis was reading his glances right. “Next to Sallust, no idea. None of the children – thank Titan and Leviathan – but otherwise… They’ll have been brought to the Moon House, like Tusa, Kamilla, Sentio and Beate.”

“We also have a whole other problem,” said Sax, Fodios younger brother and Castos uncle.

They all stopped and looked at him. Even Tulia with her puffy eyes and tear stained face. Her lips trembled.

“What do you mean ‘whole other problem’?” she snarled.

Her face had become a mask of rage and her voice pierced the sudden heavy silence of the room. In the corner the children had gone deathly pale, clinging to each other while Noctis could do nothing else but press his hands over Astras ears. Hiemi picked him up and bustled Solaris and Vox from the kitchen while Tulia continued: “My husband’s dead! Clobbered over the head with fucking rocks because you Gods damned Lapis’ just had to dig a hole in the ground. If only you’d never found that damn tunnel, then all this never would’ve happened. I’ve been married to Sallust for twenty six years. Twenty six years I’ve spent with this one person. D’ you know how that is? To share the biggest part of your life with another person? ‘Another problem.’ Hah! What could ever be worse than this?”

Tulias voice gave out. Her body shrank into itself and she seemed to age another five years in a matter of seconds. Gammers shuffling steps sounded unnaturally loud in the following silence. Nobody said anything, but Sax looked like he wanted to hit her. Thankfully the man kept his mouth shut and stayed seated in his chair. Noctis didn’t even want to imagine what it must be to lose your life long partner. He didn’t know how his father had managed it. Suddenly he wished that Hiemi hadn’t left the kitchen so that he could hug her and make sure that she was well.

A plate full of giant yeast dumplings and two pots of tea were set on the table followed by cups for everybody. “Eat,” said Gammer to Tulia and sat her down on the nearest chair at the head of the table. Her voice carried a tone Noctis couldn’t really decipher. “His life was a steady ember, but life is a fire that consumes itself, always and without failure. The waters will carry him behind the gates. Honour him with fanning what was important to him. For this you’ll need strength.”

Noctis felt his stomach growl. He had eaten next to nothing since lunch yesterday. For a moment Tulia stared at the pile of yeast dumplings before giving herself a start. Gammer hummed satisfied, shuffled back towards the stove and then made her way out of the kitchen with a huge platter filled to the brim. Noctis heard her calling for Hiemi and the children. Gratefully he took one of the dumplings and ignored the soreness in his muscles that protested every movement.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Lady Philon, but the dead won’t change the fact that we could be in serious trouble,” said Sax quietly but with a certainty Noctis didn’t like at all.

“What kind of trouble are we talking about?” asked Markus cautiously.

“The support system,” growled Fodio instead of his brother.

His face looked like it had been carved from stone. Noctis needed a few long moments to make sense of the words, but when he did his heart stopped. Oh Titan, no. If only one of the beams supporting the city above their heads truly gave in… the consequences weren’t foreseeable. Above them hovered millions of tons of stone, steel and concrete and millions of people. He saw the moment the others understood.

Noctis was so, so glad that the children weren’t in the room anymore. He set his half eaten dumpling down, his appetite completely gone. Casto had gone so pale Noctis was worried he might faint and Tulia didn’t look much better. Markus cursed loudly. This was a disaster.

“After the earthquake I took a few people and we looked over the support beams. Many of them have new cracks, especially the old stone ones, but they’ll be easy to fix compared to the rest. What I’m really worried about are the beams near the Broken Pillar and the Clinker Alleys. All in all there’re six of them where the fortifications gave out entirely and two are on the verge of breaking down completely. Adding to this, we don’t have all the necessary material to repair them. We can patch them for a while longer, but the only thing we’ll do is buy time until it all comes down on our heads.”

Ice cold shock spread through Noctis at Sax’ words. He felt his nails bite into his skin but that didn’t really register. What managed to reach him through the shadowy veil of his own thoughts was the realization that he might lose the home he had built for himself here. Where could he go? Leaving the city entirely was near impossible and he _couldn’t_ go to the upper districts.

“Couldn’t we just get the materials we need from elsewhere?” asked Casto into a silence that had something final about it. Noctis forced himself to listen. This was more important than his panic right now. His swimming vision regained some of its clarity. The Lapis brothers shook their heads at the same time.

“For these kinds of repairs we need heavy duty machinery that is only accessible Above and even then it’s very limited. It would cause unneeded attention if some of it were to go missing,” answered Sax.

“Couldn’t we find the things we need in the Heaps?” heard Noctis himself ask. The voices around him, including his own, sounded strangely muffled. He barely managed to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Theoretically, yes,” said Sax after a moment of thoughtful silence, “but who knows how long it would take. Especially as the heap-people themselves are busy with searching for their own missing people. I don’t know who Aes could lend us, should we ask her. Besides we don’t have enough people ourselves with all this chaos going on. It’s difficult to say for how long the beams will hold. For that I would have to take a closer look, but I would guess with repairs no more than a year.”

“Shit,” whispered Markus.

“We’ll ask her,” said Noctis rather forcefully. He couldn’t risk it. He just couldn’t. “Should she decline, then we can think about the other possibilities.”

Sax bowed his head in his direction. “Whatever you say, Healer.”

Noctis bit down on the inside of his cheek as to not say something he might regret.

* * *

 

Ardyn lay in the room nearest the bathroom. The air was stuffy and hot despite the open window. Ardyn himself lay covered in sweat and mostly naked upon the rickety old bed. His breath had grown labored, but was still steady. If someone were to ask Noctis this was the only good thing right now.

After the spontaneous – uncomfortable, shocking – gathering in his kitchen, Noctis had been forced by Hiemi to eat more of the breakfast.

“The caste _sacerdotium_ needs to vote for a new doge soon,” she said while watching him like a hawk as he chewed on another bite.

He made a face. The position of doge was either for life or until one hit seventy and Sallust had only been fifty nine. The caste _sacerdotium_ , which included all the social positions like actual priests, healers, teachers, librarians and child or elderly care workers, had a seat on the _deminutum concilium_ , or the small council, that was the governmental force of Deep City during times of crisis. Since Sallust was now dead, they needed a new doge to fill the seat, and fast.

“You should candidate at the assembly. They would vote for you in a heartbeat,” she continued.

“Are you out of your mind?” he choked, trying to clear his windpipe.

Hiemi sighed and looked at him like he was missing something incredibly obvious. He bristled. “Even if you won’t put yourself forth, somebody else surely will. Don’t try to tell me you don’t notice what kind of following you have gathered with what you’re doing here. Not even you’re that oblivious.”

“You don’t understand,” he started to say. By the Gods why did they have to talk about this now? “I’ve left all that governmental shit when I was _fifteen_. I can’t risk the attention an official position gets me. If the wrong people get wind of this…,” he couldn’t continue.

“Now you’re just being a coward,” snapped his wife, her green eyes flashing dangerously.

Noctis flinched and said nothing. Hiemi sighed. “I know, Healer, I know. But you need to realize that the people here are looking up to you. They won’t understand when you decline the position when it’s offered – and trust me, it’ll be. So don’t let yourself be forced into this, but take the opportunity and build your powerbase from which you’ll have the opportunity to act!”

“I already had a prime powerbase before. The best in this Gods damned kingdom! That dragon would’ve still smitten me where I stood if he’d caught a whiff of me not being a black mage.”

Thin but strong arms wound around him in a hug. He smelled the familiar scent of rosemary, lavender and cool shadows. It soothed him. “I know,” Hiemi said, “but you also need to get it into your thick head that we’re no wimpy Insomnians who’ll just let it happen. We’re Deep City folk. We keep to the old traditions and we know the power of words spoken at the right time in the right place.”

 _That’s exactly what worries me_ , he thought but didn’t say. Instead he had hugged her back and buried his face in her hair, gathering his strength before standing up and following Casto into Ardyns room.

Blankly he stared at the older man’s naked torso. Every bit of skin was covered in scars. Like thick ropes they wound themselves around his wrists and ankles, covered his right knee and the parts of the hip Noctis could see like spider webs. Across his throat a dark line was clearly visible and an equally dark network spread over his heart and across his sides. Dark splotches covered his palms.

Noctis didn’t know what was worse. The scars that he only knew the cause of through descriptions in old books, or that Ardyns upper body looked like it had been mauled by starving deamons. And some of those scars were black.

_Black._

Next to him Casto heaved a sobbing breath. Right. Casto. The life debt. Noctis was so glad that no other patients were in this room. Up until now he had only read about black scars in books, too, those that were still in part written in Sol down in the royal archives.

Shaking hands came to rest upon a clammy brow and a scarred chest. He didn’t have enough magical strength left to do much right now, not without signaling to all and sundry where he had holed up, but he could at last see how bad it truly was. Down in the tunnels he had only made sure that Ardyn wouldn’t die this instant. Now he had to check if the man would survive to see the next day. With the way he looked Noctis had some justified doubts floating in his mind.

Libra was a neutral spell that he had modified for his uses. It didn’t need much, just a tiny spark, but even that was noticeable to him now. The fatigue in his bones was nigh unbearable. A violet-golden picture started to form in front of his closed eyes and for the first time since he had developed that technique it was more violet than gold, the ‘broken’ parts overshadowing the healthy ones.

The knee had been shattered once and had healed wrong. Noctis wondered faintly how Ardyn had even been able to stand with this. His joints were calcified and his scar tissue was callous and inflexible. The list of things grew longer and longer. He wanted to cry but he continued. What he had seen until now was cruel and could only be unspeakably painful but it wasn’t why the redhead wouldn’t wake up.

Carefully Noctis felt his way deeper. He didn’t want to overlook something now even if the mere sight made him want to hurl. There was something.

It was old.

That was impossible. He went even deeper, followed the trail of _pain-magic-light_ and collided with blackness. Old, powerful blackness that reached for him with oily fingers and tried to drown him. In a blind panic Noctis jerked back as if burned and stumbled backwards until he hit the wall on the other side of the room and slid down. His heart beat like he had run a marathon and his whole body shivered. He broke out in cold sweat. How could this be?

_How could this be?_

“Healer? Healer, what is it? Will he die? Healer, please say something.”

Noctis blinked. Hot tears spilt down his cheeks. Casto stood in front of him, blue eyes wide and face white as a sheet. Noctis opened his mouth to answer but no word would leave his lips. He swallowed dryly and took a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know how he isn’t dead yet,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“What? What d’ you mean?” The panic was clear in Castos voice.

Noctis suppressed his irrational laughter and cleared his throat. Something like that could only happen to him. That something like this could happen at all. The Gods must truly and utterly hate this man.

“He has the starscourge to a degree I’ve never seen or heard about. And he’s had it for a while now. A normal human would’ve died years ago.”

“And now what?”

That poor boy.

“Now,” said Noctis, pulled his hands through his lanky hair and stood up, “you’ll go down to Hiemi and ask her for her best slaves for calcified joints. Also scar cream – the brown one – and as many bandages as you can carry or we’ve got left. One or the other. Then you’ll get the green tea – the one with cardamom, nettle and comfrey – and you’ll make him drink as much of it as you can. Understood?”

Without another word Casto ran from the room. Noctis slumped against the wall and groaned. He should lie down and sleep. Recover his strength. But Ardyn was faring far worse than him. Far, far worse. So he would take care of him first. He stumbled towards the bed and let himself slump heavily upon the stool standing next to it.

Thoughtfully he studied Ardyns face. From looks alone he would’ve thought him in his mid-thirties. But there was something upon closer inspection. Something tired and old and Noctis didn’t know what to do with it. Then there was the scourge and that spark hiding behind it. The spark had tasted like magic that was foreign and familiar at the same time. Noctis shook his head. He could ponder about this later. Little steps. One problem after the other like Ignis had used to say.

Good, ok. That he could do. First he would take care of the calcified joints and soften the scar tissue. Then the hip and the warped tissue beneath the scars. With the knee he would have to wait until Ardyn was awake again.

There. Simple. One thing after the other. Breath in, breath out.

Loud steps thundered along the corridor and then Casto hurried through the door, followed by Hiemi who took one look at Ardyns semi-naked form and nearly let her pots full of salves drop in shock.

“Gods gracious,” she said breathlessly.

Her eyes were as wide as his must have been when he had seen the extent of the catastrophe for the first time. Yes, that was a good word for it. A catastrophe. She recovered faster than he had and helped him to administer the creams and salves generously upon the scars and joints before covering everything in bandages. It took some time. There were many scars and even his spine had not been spared the calcification.

Hiemi caught Noctis’ gaze over Ardyns still body. He saw her determined expression and knew what she was thinking. He nodded. Satisfied she turned away and started to gather the empty pots and containers. When Ardyn woke up he would realize that he had gained one very stubborn protector, if he wanted to or not.

Casto helped to dress the man in some sleepwear and tuck him into thick blankets despite the heat permeating everything. The scourge at such late a stage lowered one’s body temperature dangerously low. The teenager filled a cup from a thermos and tried to get him to swallow. Noctis showed him how he had to massage the throat to trigger the swallowing reflex.

After that he staggered out of the room utterly exhausted. His field of vision started to lose focus at the edges. The last twenty four hours finally caught up to him.

Warm hands pushed him gently into the bathroom, washed the dirt and sweat from his face and hands and massaged his scalp to wash his hair. Noctis let it happen. A female voice said something and he answered but after a few moments he could for the life of him not remember what they had talked about. The last thing he wondered was how he had gotten into bed. Then he finally slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much happening this chapter. Why is there so much happening?  
> Before someone complains about why Noctis isn't helping Tulia with her breakdown: for one he is very exhausted rn, physically and emotionally. Also, he's very awkward around people crying around him if they're not his children. It's also why he doesn't make the connection between Ardyn having familiar magic and and him being a Lucis Cealum at once. It will come. When he's actually awake enough to think properly about it.  
> So, I killed Sallust. He's just a minor OC but I kind of liked him. He was a grumpy old man who loved teaching and history. With the earthquake happening I knew I had to kill someone who actually appeared on screen and had a name. I immediately settled on Sallust. In the first draft of the story he had a few more scenes but they weren't leading anywhere so they got cut. He still died. A moment of silence, please.  
> And we have a bit more information about how Deep City works. The population is structured into castes that one isn't born into but are structured after the job you settle into. In that they're more like a guild. You can also change caste if you change your job. It doesn't happen often but it's possible.  
> The small council (deminutum concilium in Latin) is a form of government in Deep City. They handle all the fast response stuff and emergency cases. All the most influential castes have a seat, also counting the sacerdotium caste. Sacerdotium being Latin (surprise, surprise) and being the genitive plural of sacerdos which means priest/priestess. It encases all kinds of social workers, public servants, healers and so on.   
> The leader of a caste is called doge (like the old heads of the Venetian city state) or dogessa (female version I made up) and he or she gets voted in in an assembly after the old one died or turned seventy.
> 
> Next up: Gladio!


	17. Gladio III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gladio involuntarily starts to dig into governmental corruption.  
> Featuring: Ignis' love for Ebony, assorted Kingsglaive members and a golden haired photographer.
> 
> Warning: swearing

_8.2.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Ghetto_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

If Gladio could have managed it, he would have stayed at home. No, that wasn’t true. He was glad to be able to help. What bothered him was that he wasn’t out there, in the thick of things, helping to clear the streets and dig through the rubble for people that were still missing, even after two days. No, he got punted to the people organizing the reception centres. Gladio got stuck with leading Reception Centre Five which was located at the lowest part of the refugee district right by the ghetto, thanks to daddy dearest.

Two days after the earthquake the overall panic was still strong. Too many people had lost their homes, especially in the lower districts. Not a single building in Insomnia had been built with earthquake safety in mind. There never had been an earthquake in Cavaugh. Until the day after yesterday Gladio hadn’t even known that it was possible. Now he wished to have never made the experience.

The cracks in the New Wall still hadn’t vanished. That had everybody up in fear that King Regis was to die soon, or that Nifelheim would come knocking at their gates. He dearly hoped that neither was the case.

Impatiently he stood in front of the gym where the centre had been set up in and stared down at the clipboard within his hands. He had been waiting for some time now and already he knew the first page of the printed form nearly by heart.

 _Foodstuffs delivery for Reception Centre Five at 10:15 o’ clock_. The following list of food items mainly contained things that one was able to cook in masses and didn’t expire fast. Noodles, canned stew and a bit of fruit. For breakfast they’d had masses of toast with cheap cheese and ham.

Now it was nearly half past eleven and Gladio really had to control himself. Civilian traffic was still banned but the streets were still full of fallen debris or damaged themselves. Maybe the delivery van had simply gotten stuck somewhere. He sincerely hoped that it was just that.

He had arrived here at dawn after just a handful of hours of sleep only to find out that they still didn’t have enough beds or blankets for everybody. The toast nearly hadn’t been enough and none of the people housed here had been particularly surprised. Gladio was so close to storm to the citadel and to have a go at the ministers for City Development and Civic Affairs and Immigration, where the Department of Refugees fell under.

Instead he leafed through the papers of his clipboard until he found an empty one and started to write down the deficits they had. That list grew uncomfortably long very fast. Something was fishy with this whole situation, he could feel it. Even if he couldn’t say what it was exactly that was bothering him. But maybe Ignis could find out. Gladio and him had been at the briefing where the secretary of the Civic Minister and Monica had explained which centre got what when ordered by priority.

Reception Centre Five was the second largest for refugees with currently 283 people, mainly Galahdians and Nifelheimr. Surprisingly it worked without both groups being at each other’s throat overly much. They were also 283 people he was responsible for. He didn’t like it at all. The only person he’d ever been really responsible for before was Noctis and that… hadn’t ended well to say the least.

“The damn van still not here?”

Gladio looked up from the clipboard and saw Crowe coming out of the gym. Her, Pelna Khara and Tredd Furia had been assigned to the centre as well. Something about Crownsguard and Kingsglaive working together – but still under the banner of the Crownsguard, had been heavily implied. Not that Gladio was inclined to play that card. He knew these people and if you let them work they would get you results. It was as easy as that.

For the fracture of a second Crowe’s gaze wandered up towards the sky before she made a face and crossed her arms in front of her chest. He couldn’t really blame her. Every time he saw the cracks in the New Wall, he had the feeling of falling into an abyss.

“You see it anywhere?” he asked back, more irritated than he wanted to.

Crowe just pressed her lips together into a thin line and glared at him with a dark expression. At once Gladio got an unpleasant feeling. He had no idea if her home was affected as well, but these were her people. Not for the first time since it happened, even since today, did he wonder why he’d been assigned this post. His mother may have been half Galahdian, but that didn’t mean that they were his people or that he understood them.

“Hey, listen-,” Gladio started to say but Crowe interrupted him.

“Pelna got the Dispatching Centre on the phone at last. They said the van has been dispatched on time and it wasn’t their problem if it got delayed. They also don’t have any more beds for us. Oh and the delivery for expendable items has been canceled as well as the reinforcement for the kitchens and cleaning. Apparently they ‘need the manpower somewhere else’. Then Pelna called around for a bit. Number six has a few more beds we can use. We may also get a few spare blankets from number eight. So there’s that.”

“Damnit. What in the name of Shiva’s icy tits are the people up there doing?”

Crowe’s smile was an ugly thing full of jagged edges and teeth. “Welcome to the dark side of Insomnia where not all is pretty and full of rainbows. You’re one of us now, better get used to it.”

Gladio stared at her. He had no idea what he should say to that. What could he say to that? That he hadn’t known that it was that bad? Somehow he didn’t think that that would fly well.

“Pelna didn’t per chance also find out where we’ll get enough food to feed everybody here if the van doesn’t come?” he asked instead.

This was a problem he could concentrate upon, that he could maybe even solve, even if he did prefer to solve his problems with a sword. With that he was proficient. Not with logistics.

“Not without paying a lot of money we don’t have.”

Gladio took a deep breath, slowly blowing the air out through his nose. He had no time to beat up ministers whose names he didn’t even bother to remember. His phone showed him the time in softly glowing numbers. It was twenty to twelve. Damnit. 283 people. Then he got an idea. A stupid and careless idea.

“Ok. We send Furia to get the beds at number six and talk to the people at number eight about those blankets. And we should ask the people here if someone wants to volunteer for kitchen duty and cleaning. Could you please check how long our food reserves will last if the van doesn’t come? I think I have an idea about what to do if it doesn’t last.”

Crowe squinted at him for a few seconds before realization spread across her face. “Wonderful. That’s just as crazy as one of Nyx’ ideas. Guard duty has fried both your brains. How will you explain that to your father if he finds out?”

“If I do it right I can file it under relief efforts and get the money back with the tax returns,” he said and shrugged.

“Wait, you’re paying taxes? No don’t answer that. I don’t need another change in my worldview so soon. Just…,” she waved her hands in front of her and sighed. “You know what? I don’t care. Do it. The people will hate it if they ever find out but hey, better than starving because the government can’t be bothered, right? I’ll see what I can do about those volunteers.”

Gladio nodded. The people needed the food and as long as they got it they wouldn’t care where it came from. Hopefully. He knew that Crowe knew it too, otherwise she’d never have agreed to it.

“Will you tell Pelna and Furia?”

“Sure, why not? But don’t get used to it. I’m not your messenger. And what are you going to do?” she asked in a warning tone that promised a fire spell to the face should she get the wrong answer.

Gladio lifted his phone and dialled a number he still had on speed dial despite all the years that had passed. “I’ll call someone who can find out for us why the Distribution Centre does so much bullshit,” he said and grinned.

The mage nodded and went inside without another word. The phone rang five times until Ignis finally answered.

“Gladiolus, I dearly hope the world is currently ending where you are.”

“I have 283 people here who have nothing to eat because that damn delivery van isn’t showing up, hygiene is more a concept than reality and we’re out of toilet paper. That good enough?”

A short silence was his answer in which Gladio wondered if it had really been such a good idea to call Ignis. The other had likely more than enough to do himself. But he couldn’t just hang up now, now could he?

“Where are you?” asked Ignis after a quiet sigh.

Gladio felt the stones drop from his shoulders he was so relieved that Ignis hadn’t just said no. “Reception Centre Five. That’s at-”

“I have the map in front of me,” interrupted Ignis. Somewhere in the background he could hear a rustling sound. Probably paper. Gladio told himself to be patient. Regrettably it had started to slip through his fingers some time ago.

“The delivery van should have arrived at ten-fifteen. Pelna, I mean Pelna Khara from the Kingsglaive phoned the Distribution Centre and they told him the van left as planed and should’ve been here already.”

Again paper rustled on the other end.

“The General assigned you to a reception centre for refugees?” Ignis sounded honestly astounded.

“More like my father did it,” snorted Gladio.

“Ah.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. The beginnings of a migraine made themselves known. Oh Gods please, not that, too.

“Ignis. The situation here isn’t… ideal. To be honest we don’t even have enough beds and blankets for everybody and the people don’t seem to have expected better. Something is going on and I don’t like it.”

“That’s not possible. I saw the numbers myself. The Ministry for Civic Affairs and Immigration gets enough money from the crown, especially for the refugees. Their budget is more than enough.”

“I believe you, Ignis, really, I do, but what the heck is happening with said budget? You cannot tell me that the money wouldn’t have been enough for fifty more beds. I mean one delivery can be late, yes, especially with the chaos going on right now, but the food that was delivered yesterday already didn’t match the numbers on the protocols. It wasn’t enough.”

“You have read the protocols?”

Slowly Galdio closed his eyes. Patience. Now wasn’t the time to lose control. That’s what got him into this mess in the first place. This day could only get worse if the evening delivery didn’t come either. If that happened Gladio wouldn’t know what he would do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

The door to the gym opened and Furia stepped out. He didn’t spare a greeting or even a glance for Gladio and went right to the minivan that they had gotten from the military, to travel between centres. Arrogant asshole.

“Of course I’ve read the damned protocols,” he ground out between clenched teeth. If he wanted to or not, he was responsible for these people and he _wouldn’t_ mess this up a second time.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Ignis sounded like he was sincere about it, too.

Gladio said nothing. Something rustled again. „Can you send me the protocols? Those from today and yesterday? I will compare them with those here and see what went out and what actually arrived. And write down what truly is still missing. I will see what I can do, but I can’t promise you anything.”

“Thanks, Ignis. I owe you.”

“At least a year’s supply of Ebony,” he said amused and at the same time snippy.

“Anything else?” grinned Gladio despite Ignis not being able to see it.

“I will think of something.”

“Good. And Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you dare and overwork yourself.”

“Hn. You neither.”

The dial tone sounded and Gladio snorted. That had gone better than he’d expected it to. He let his gaze wander over the old parking lot and up the street towards the small Flumensbridge from where the van should arrive. The street remained empty. He still remained for a few seconds more, his face growing darker and darker, before he turned around and walked back towards the gym. He had better things to do than wait for a van he knew would not come.

The door gave off a sorrowful shriek as it fell close behind him and cut him off from the hot and humid air outside. Inside it wasn’t that much cooler anymore after near 300 people spent two days in such a close space. Air conditioning didn’t exist in these old buildings. Gladios soles squeaked on the worn linoleum floor as he stepped through the entrance area past the doors that led towards the showers and the changing rooms towards the hall.

Over his head flickered one of the neon lights in irregular intervals. In one corner stood a group of teenagers, heads lowered over the glowing display of a phone, watching something. Their faces were serious and grim. If one was to believe up-to-date newsfeeds then people were having difficulties with the rescue operations because of the way Insomnia had been built. The people feared to destabilize one of the support beams and causing even more structural collapses.

The double doors leading into the hall were wide open. Gladio stepped through and saw Crowe speaking to a group of Nifelheimr who were listening attentively. From somewhere further into the big room a baby’s cry reached him and children were shrieking as they played. Under it all sounded the low murmur of hushed conversations.

He weaved through the narrow paths between islands of cots and spread blankets. It smelled sharply of old sweat and other human stink. People sat in groups on their islands; their meagre luggage spread around them and tried to make the time go by a bit faster. Most of them ignored him. For them he was just the poor sod who had made the mistake of getting assigned to and now had to keep up appearances about caring for them. They were not entirely wrong.

He was halfway to Pelna who stood near the kitchen entrance with the phone pressed to his ear and talked with a forced calm, to find out if he had any idea about what to do about their lack of toilet paper, when a young man, more like a teenager, still, stepped towards him. His sunny blond hair and darker skin showed his nifelheimr ancestry. Nervous fingers played with a leather armband and around his neck hung a camera.

“Excuse me, Mister Crownsguard, Ser. My name is Prompto Argentum and I work for the newspapers. I was wondering if I couldn’t help with this whole… thing. Can I call it that? I mean it’s all pretty awful and my house isn’t even in the affected areas and they still stuck me here.”

Argentum waved his arm around to encompass the whole gym while his other hand withdrew a press ID from his pocket. Gladio took it with a strange feeling of amusement. He had no idea what to make of this guy. His eyes fell onto the camera.

“You’re a photographer?”

The blond grinned widely and nodded. “Yes. I already talked to a few people here and they don’t have a problem with me taking a few photos. If I can find paper and a pen somewhere I could also write an interview, I suppose. But that’s not something I’ve done often until now. I mean I could probably get one of the journalists from the newspaper I work for to come here and do it. That would probably be better. If you agree, of course Mister Crownsguard, Ser.”

“My name is Gladio. Gladiolus Amicitia. No Mister and no Ser,” he said and wasn’t quite sure if he should find this funny or not. In the end he settled on funny. The energy of the blond was contiguous. The guy looked surprised.

“Amicitia? Like Duke Amicitia, Shield of the King?”

“My father.”

“Oh,” made Prompto and tilted his head. “Shouldn’t you be up there with all the important people then and not here with us plebs?”

Gladio stared at him. Argentums eyes widened and his hands fluttered in front of him like little birds. “Forget that I said that. So, I suppose I just wanted to know if it was okay to pen an article about our Reception Centre and to publish it in our newspaper. Would it be alright if your name appeared in it? It could grant the whole thing more weight.”

Gladio’s thoughts were racing. He had no idea if that thing with the article was such a good idea. On one hand this whole scheme could backfire spectacularly, but on the other… His gaze settled on a tired mother who tried to explain to her daughter why they couldn’t go home right now.

“Did you also ask the others?” he asked.

“The Glaives? No. I thought it would be best to come to you first. Everybody who is somebody knows that concerning decisions the word of the Crownsguard stands over that of the Kingsglaive. I just wanted to be sure,” said Argentum and shrugged as if this was just a simple fact of life.

Gladio frowned. People with even a sliver of a brain knew this but he had never heard it spoken so plainly. He bade Argentum to follow him and continued his way over to Pelna. He followed him like a lost chocobo chick. They came to hear the end of a call where the Glaive slammed the handset back onto the cradle with a “me too you asshole”.

“Please tell me that the van is here,” he said to Gladio as he turned around and saw them coming towards him.

“Nope,” he answered and Pelna dragged his hand over his face in resignation and let out a bone weary sigh. “Pelna, this here is Prompto Argentum. He’s a photographer for the papers and asked me if he could shoot some photos and maybe write an article about our situation here. Argentum, this is Pelna Khara from the Kingsglaive and also our current coordinator.”

“Hi,” Argentum grinned and held his hand out. “I’m also not bad at social networks and would post the pictures if that’s alright with everybody.”

“Eh, okay? It’s alright from my side, just ask Crowe and Tredd before you do anything. I don’t want those two harping after my ass if they find out I got asked and not them. Give me your handle later. If you want I can show you a few tricks how you can reach all those prigs up in the citadel.”

The man grinned mischievously and Argentum nearly started to vibrate in excitement. Gladio started to wonder if he’d made a mistake in introducing the two of them.

“How’s it going?” he asked and Pelna got serious again.

“Not very well, I fear. Number four just barely manages by itself. They’re just not worse off because they’re the biggest centre in the lower districts. The only thing number six has in abundance are beds because people expected more would flock there, seven can’t help and the blankets from eight are still a maybe. Nine to eleven don’t get any governmental help at all and are asking us for help and in one through three there aren’t any Glaives and I don’t trust the guards there to tell me the truth should I ask something of them.”

Argentum made a sound like he’d just choked on his spit. Pelna ignored him and continued: “We’re lucky that none of the toilets have broken down yet. That’s something I can do without.”

“Please don’t jinx it,” groaned Argentum and threw his hands into the air as if he was an actor on a stage drama.

Gladio rolled his eyes. “I’ve called a friend of mine that works in the citadel. He’s seen the distributed budgets and says that the MCAI can’t come with the argument that money is lacking. I’ll also send him copies of our protocols so that he can compare them with what he already has. Call all but one through three again and tell them to send me copies of theirs, too. Maybe we’ll find out what happened to all this stuff. It cannot have vanished into thin air.”

“Sure, no problem,” nodded Pelna and took the phone up again.

Gladio stepped past him, Argentum hot on his heels, through the kitchen and into the office that was located behind it. This was their little private administration department. It was here where all the forms and protocols, bills of delivery and inventory lists were kept.

The computer on the desk was an old behemoth of a processor and simply not usable anymore if you didn’t have a masters in computer science and engineering. Annoyed he started to rummage through the papers. He would have to photograph every single one of them to send them per e-mail later. He didn’t trust the old dusty fax machine that looked more like an antique typewriter in the corner.

From the door he heard the click of a camera and looked up. Argentum grinned at him from behind it, lens aimed straight at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPTOOOOO!!!!!  
> He's finally here! And ready to help uncover governmental corruption.   
> Little tidbit: Ser is the correct form of adress for a member of the Crownsguard. For Kingslglaive it's 'Sir'.  
> Not sure if I'm using the right words for things in this one, but I couldn't find any better so they're staying for now.
> 
> Next up: Aranea!


	18. Aranea II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aranea gets her hands on some concerning imformation and makes a risky decision.  
> Featuring: Cid Sophiar and a long overdue phone call.
> 
> Warning: Swearing

_8.2.755 ME_

_Leide, Merioth Haven_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

It was dusty and hot and they were far too close to Insomnia for Aranea’s liking. At least the Three Valleys were devoid of any human life. Still, what had possessed Glauca to demand a meeting here of all places? Leide wasn’t in control of the Empire.

Not yet, most may say, but she thought it prudent to be cautious, even when victory seems all but assured.

She couldn’t keep the scowl from her face as she, Biggs and Wedge killed a pack of sabertusks on their way to the meeting point at Merioth Haven. Why had that arrogant ass demanded a new meeting so soon?

It couldn’t be that earthquake, could it? She’d been in Lestallum at the time where the people had just shrugged like this was a regular occurrence and continued on with their lives. Duscae was prone to little earthquakes, after all Titan held the meteor up not that far from there. But then her contacts in Nifelheim had said that it had happened there, too, and at the exact same time. Zegnautus Keep had been evacuated because the structure holding it up had been damaged. Aranea found that little tidbit endlessly amusing.

What wasn’t so amusing were the thousands of people losing their homes. No one had built them with earthquakes in mind, and now everybody was scrambling to pick up the pieces. Not that the Empire was doing overly much for its people, too concerned with keeping the MT production running.

Had some of the General’s contacts within Insomnia gotten something important? Even if, this was still too risky. It only needed one Border Patrol and it was as good as over.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Lady A. You sure that information could be worth it?” asked Biggs after they had dealt with the sabertusks. Wedge nodded his silent agreement.

“You’re not the only one, trust me, but whatever the General has planned it can’t be good and I, for my part, want to know what it is before it blows up in all our faces,” she said with a faint grimace.

That chip Biggs had hacked a few days ago had been… she didn’t think concerning was quite the right word. It had been full of magical theory that went straight over her head with references to older data she didn’t have. The only thing she really had understood was the status report on the military, especially the Kingsglaive. Those guys were tough little fuckers.

Tough and loyal. That information had required an inside job. Which was good for Nifelheim, she supposed. Still, her stomach tied itself into hard knots when she thought about it.

“Come on guys. We’re nearly there. Better get this show on the road. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Yes, Lady A,” both said.

It didn’t take them too long to get to the rock formation where the Haven was located and from down where she stood she could see the hulking form of the General’s armour as a dark silhouette against the cloudless sky. She refused to freeze or do anything obvious like cursing the man’s head off for choosing such an open location.

When she finally stepped upon the runes of the Haven, she put on her best I-don’t-give-a-shit-grin and said: “I must say General you make for a very impressive landmark.”

The man didn’t move from his place at the edge of the runes but still she could feel his stare boring into her. She gave her grin the barest hint of an edge, refusing to show just how much this hulk of a man actually affected her.

“You should watch your men Commodore, before they get themselves into a situation they can’t get out of,” sounded the modified voice that grated in her ears.

Aranea couldn’t quite suppress the stiffening of her muscles. Did Glauca know they had hacked the last chip? For a few long heartbeats they stared at each other. No, she decided. If he knew they would all be dead by now.

“My men know quite well how to get themselves out of any trouble they may cause General.”

The armour hummed barely audible as the man tilted his head the barest bit to show his confirmation.

“You will be saddened to hear that the Chancellor hasn’t been seen in Lucis,” he said.

Good. One creep less she had to deal with, even if it was a competent creep. Chancellor Izunia knew how he had to spin a story to get what he wanted. She hoped he’d fallen into a ditch somewhere and died so he wouldn’t try to make her transport MTs anymore. The amount of time he and Besithia spent together was concerning.

“Terribly,” she said dryly. “Now let’s get this over with. I’m sure we both have better things to do than standing here like old fishwives and doing small talk.”

Glauca said nothing and Aranea thought that maybe he didn’t like being compared to an old gossipy woman. Well, that wasn’t her problem. The General reached behind him and showed an identical container to the last. This time she didn’t have one, so she just waited as he showed her the chip behind the security glass and then walked forward to pluck it out of his hand.

She weighted it in her hand for a moment before executing a careless salute, just shy of insubordination, and said: “By your leave, General.” She turned around without waiting for an answer and to climb the way back down.

At the foot of the small rocky hill Biggs and Wedge were anxiously waiting for her. Both relaxed minutely as she joined them. She threw the container with the chip at Biggs.

“I trust you know what to do with it,” she said.

The man stared at her for half a second too long before he nodded. “Of course, Lady A,” he said.

They nodded and together they made their way back through the Three Valleys towards her airship.

“He said anything?” asked Wedge when they were nearly back.

“Only that our dear Chancellor remains as elusive as ever,” she answered. She remained silent for a few seconds before looking over her shoulder without halting her steps and adding: “You keep yourselves and the others out of trouble, you hear me?”

“Of course.”

“Yes, Lady A.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t much longer until they arrived at the small airship they had taken to Leide. It was not her _Soaring Queen_ , but a smaller ship, just big enough to fit the three of them and definitely not red but the standard metallic grey.

“How long will you need to crack that thing?” asked Aranea as she fired up the engines.

“Not as long as last time, considering I’ve now got a template to work off of now. Give me a few minutes to get it out of the box and an hour tops to get us the information on it,” said Biggs already turning the container between his hands thoughtfully.

“Good. I dearly hope there isn’t another story about this Ulric and how he got sentenced for disciplinary actions for something he should have been promoted over. No wonder the Lilies are losing if that’s how they deal with competent people in their military.”

“It’s the mole,” Wedge snorted, amused.

Aranea made a low humming sound and guided their little ship into the air but still low on the ground. You never knew who was watching the skies after all. That would mean the mole was pretty high up and also influential if he could exchange a promotion with disciplinary actions.

“Aha!” made Biggs as the security glass of the container gave away with a small click.

“Need the board computer on _Soaring Queen_?” asked Wedge.

“Hmm, no. This one works just fine,” answered Biggs and gave the chip to Wedge so he could insert it into the slot normally used for data chips containing regional maps. Blessed be the unexpected stinginess of the militaries upper echelon when it came to anything other than MTs and their damned daemon research.

Aranea grinned as Biggs and Wedge talked, or rather as Biggs talked at Wedge who was making appropriate sounds every so often as the former worked at the chip and the latter manned the radar. But that spark of contentment didn’t last long as the General’s words drifted through her mind again. Her crew was very competent and could look after themselves but the longer she thought about it the surer she got that he hadn’t meant her crew. Not the one aboard the _Soaring Queen_ at least.

She would have to talk to Telluris as soon as possible. Make sure his group had what they needed and that they didn’t stay in one place for too long. Last time the crackdown from the government had happened way too close for comfort.

With all those people mysteriously vanishing, especially those in association with the resistance, it was imperative they kept five steps ahead of the Empire. But Aranea knew it was only a matter of time until someone slipped up, said the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. They’d had a few close calls with planted moles in the past, but until now she had been fast enough to make them disappear. She wasn’t arrogant enough to think she would always be.

“Uh-oh,” made Biggs, abruptly cutting off his nonsensical rambles about this one pretty Exineris girl he’d met.

“Do we have a problem?” asked Aranea and kept a careful eye on the controls of the ship.

“Define problem,” came the prompt answer. “But yes, we might, or we definitely have, depending on what you want to do with this.”

“Out with it Biggs!”

“Okay, okay! So, I haven’t fully cracked it yet so there may be more to this, but it _seems_ like the magical wall around Insomnia got damaged during the earthquake. There’re cracks in it and according to this they haven’t repaired themselves because the connection between the King and the crystal got somehow… damaged? Weakened? I don’t know. The mole doesn’t really seem to know either.”

“How’s an earthquake damaging a magical wall?” asked Wedge into the stunned silence.

“Beats me,” said Biggs with a shrug.

This was not good. Not good at all. Now wasn’t the right time for the status quo to change. They weren’t ready. The resistance back in Nifelheim was still too fractured, the left hand not really knowing what the right hand did, with leadership squabbling over every tiny thing. They needed to sort that out fast, if they wanted to continue to provide a safe haven for the persecuted. Lucis was the only country left where refugees could just disappear into the system as it were, even with it steadily losing ground. But now…

Now she needed to decide what to do with this information. Nifelheim couldn’t get it, but if she didn’t deliver it she would lose her place in the military and with it all that precious information she picked up. Not that she’d done anything with most of it, mercenary honour and all that.

Lucis couldn’t fall now, Aranea realized, not with the way Nifelheim currently was. They needed that information and there was only one way they could get it if the mole didn’t screw up, which was very unlikely considering the quality of information they had gathered. How did one get around obtaining information on magical theory? That was a secret the Lucis Caelum line protected jealously.

The question now was: Was giving Lucis a heads up on the potential attack – who was she kidding, of course they would attack – worth the loss of her position?

“Eh, Lady A?”

Shiva’s icy fields that tone of voice didn’t sound good.

“What is it?”

“We should definitely tell Lucis,” Biggs said. “Glauca attached attack plans to this.”

Aranea cursed. Loudly. Then she turned the aircraft around. “Okay boys, it seems we have to do a little detour before we return to Lestallum.”

Biggs groaned theatrically before echoing Wedges “Yes, Lady A”.

The plan forming in her head was madness, but it was mad enough that it might just work with a bit of luck. They couldn’t just walk up to the nearest Border Patrol and surrender themselves. It bore too high a risk that the mole might catch wind of it. No, they needed to contact King Regis as directly as possible and infiltrating Insomnia on such a short notice was a suicide commando.

There was however one possibility. She’d heard through the grapevine that one of the King’s old friends lived here in Leide. With a bit of luck that man wouldn’t try to kill them long enough for him to listen.

“Biggs, copy everything you can on a second data chip. We’ll keep the original as insurance. Wedge, contact the rest of the crew. They are to keep their heads down and if anything suspicious happens they are to hightail it out of there to the usual place.”

“Roger that,” they said and a few seconds later Wedges deep bass of a voice became a steady noise in the background as she concentrated on flying and finding a good spot to hide the airship in.

* * *

 

They found a place to hide the airship in the hills near Cortisse Haven. Nary had a person gone there since the daemons around that area had grown in number at a rapid rate. They walked the rest of the way to Hammerhead, which took a while since they didn’t have chocobos to ride.

The evening sun turned the dusty air a brownish red as they entered the small village. It was new enough that it still didn’t have a physical wall but one of light against the daemons. How this place had survived against the local wildlife until now Aranea didn’t know, but that wasn’t important now. No one was outside and the only people she could see were crowding in the diner. That was good. She didn’t need any gossips talking about her and her companions.

Cid Sophiar was older than she thought he would be. He seemed to be somewhere around his seventies with white hair sticking out from under a red cap and a scraggly beard. Sharp hazel eyes watched them as he sat in a folding chair in front of the closed gates of the huge garage, some kind of machinery next to him that looked like Nifelheimr technology repurposed to do… something. Nothing good for people who crossed the old man, Aranea gathered.

The three came to a stop at a respectable distance, all their hands far away from their weapons. Her helmet was an unusual weight against her hip as she stood there together with Biggs and Wedge.

“I am looking for Cid Sophiar, I am-”

“I know who you are, Commodore Highwind,” interrupted the old man. “What do you want from Cid? Be aware if I don’t like your answer you won’t like the consequences.”

Aranea put on her best politicians smile. “We are here on a little detour concerning rather worrying information that found its way into our hands.”

The old man tensed and the machine next to him gave off a low rumble. “What kind of information might that be that you don’t go running off to your superiors with it like the good little Niff you are?”

“Because this _good little Niff_ usually gets payed for her services, Mister Sophiar, and until now she hasn’t, so she is free to do with this information as she pleases. I assure you we didn’t come to cause you or yours any harm,” answered Aranea, her smile growing into a smirk as she saw the muscled around the old man’s eyes jump.

“You better not be,” he rumbled. “Now, why did you come to me?”

“Because you are a friend of King Regis and this information has to reach him as directly and fast as possible.” She decided it was better to be as blunt as possible with this man. Anything else would make her even more suspicious in his mind. He still squinted at the three of them like they might attack at any minute.

“What makes you think I’m still in contact with the King?”

“Nothing,” she said and resisted the urge to shift her weight in an unwelcome bout of nerves. That was something she hadn’t calculated for. She didn’t fancy having to kill the people of Hammerhead if this fell through and she thought Cid Sophiar might know this as well, if she interpreted his expression right. “But I think he will listen to you.”

A thoughtful silence followed in which Aranea mentally went through every possible way this might go, not all of them pretty. Behind her, Wedge stood as still as a stone while Biggs huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. In any other situation she would have rolled her eyes. Biggs had always been the more impatient and less politically inclined of the two.

“Eh,” Sophiar made at last, coming to a decision. “Follow me. Its better we talk about his away from any potential ears and eyes that are too curious for their own good.”

He stood up from his folding chair and the machinery next to him vanished into glowing magical particles and the gentle sound of tinkling glass. Aranea forced herself not to watch too curiously, but seeing Sophiar’s grin she wasn’t very successful at it. Of course she had seen Lucian magic before, but that had been during skirmishes and never this up close.

They followed the old man to a side entrance, Biggs staying behind to keep an eye on it, and entered a narrow corridor through which they reached the big main area of the garage. It was mostly empty right now, only one car parked at the far side of it. Along the back wall crowded all kinds of electronic nick-knacks and a small table with a group of chairs arranged around it. They sat down and without a word Aranea pulled out the data chip and laid it down on the table.

At once Sophiar’s eyes zeroed in on it. He hummed and stood up again to reach one of the upper shelves. From there he took something that looked like a scanner with a large display attached. He turned it on and inserted the chip into a narrow slot in its side.

Aranea exchanged a quick glance with Wedge who was as stony faced as ever around people whose allegiance towards her weren’t clear, and leaned back to observe Sophiar as he read through the data. First his eyebrows rose in surprise, then he grew gimmer and grimmer with every second that passed until he paled rapidly and started cussing in a rather impressive manner. Without saying a word to them the old man pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Reggie, it’s me,” he said gruffly after just a few seconds.

Aranea had to stifle a laugh. Who in the name of Pitioss called King Regis ‘Reggie’? The next instant Sophiar pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in exasperation. Even from where she sat she could hear the commotion happening on the other end of the line.

Sophiar’s face darkened as he pulled the phone close again even as the loud noises were still happening. “Regis,” he said in a warning tone and at once the other end fell silent.

“There’s a reason why I’m calling and it’s not what you think it is – no, you will listen to me Regis Lucis Caelum or that hammer _will_ hit you in the head this time. I don’t care if I have to drag you out of your fancy tower to do it.”

Aranea shared an incredulous look with Wedge. No one would dare to talk like that to Emperor Aldercapt. The person who did would be dead before they could finish the first sentence. She tried to suppress it, but now she started to grow curious about what kind of person the king was if he let someone – even an old friend – talk to him like that.

“You know of Commodore Aranea Highwind, right?” Sophiar continued after a few beats of silence. “I think you’d like to know that she’s sitting right in front of me. Gods damn it, Reggie, no I don’t need for you to send the cavalry. I wouldn’t be calling if she would try to kill me. I’m calling because you’ve got a really big problem coming your way. The Commodore came to me with information – no I have no idea why exactly but she wanted you to know and I have to say its Gods damn it important that you do.”

Sophiar alternated from staring at them to staring at the small screen still displaying the data on the chip. His wrinkled face was starting to regain some of its colour.

“Because according to this your magical wall has a few big cracks in it that the crystal isn’t repairing and the crystal itself doesn’t like you anymore. There’s damage reports from inside the city, statistics of dead people, money, more money that got embezzled, estimations for resources needed to rebuild, some magical mumbo jumbo and – get this – plans for an all-out attack planned and sanctioned by the General Glauca himself. So you or someone you absolutely trust swings their ass over here _pronto_ to deal with this problem. I don’t care. Send Cor if you have to.”

The old man scowled at thin air but didn’t say anything for a short while.

“Has the crystal finally fried your brain?” he said at last. “I have no means to do that. If they’re gone by tomorrow then they’re gone no matter what I do.”

“We will not go into the city. We don’t need the mole knowing that we gave this information to a third party. What we can be persuaded to do, however, is to talk to whoever comes here if the pay is right. Otherwise we will get out of your hair now.”

“Wait a second, Regis. What kind of pay?”

Hazel eyes bored into her green ones. Aranea lifted her chin the tiniest fraction and casually leaned back on her chair, her politicians smile back on her face. A flicker of excitement welled up inside of her. Now they were talking.

“Amnesty for me and my crew should we be found out in this little scheme for starters. No persecution for war crimes and one million Gil. It is that or no further cooperation will be forthcoming.”

Sophiar relayed that, face and voice giving nothing away. He listened.

“Amnesty will be given should you need it for coming out with this information to us. Everything else will have to be negotiated when the negotiator comes tomorrow. The crown will come up for the costs of the stay.”

Aranea let the silence stretch a few seconds, the atmosphere thick and tense between them, before dipping her head into a tiny nod. “You have yourself a deal Mister Sophiar. Please relay to his majesty that it is a pleasure to do business with him.”

Shortly after that the call ended and Sophiar stood up, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _fucking mess_ and a few other choice words every mercenary would be impressed of. Quite a number of them seemed to be directed towards a certain king.

“Follow me. I’ll show you your accommodations for the night. Stay there and don’t let yourself be seen by the other villagers. The owner of the diner will come by later with dinner and breakfast tomorrow morning. He knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

She and Wedge stood up and together all three went back the way they came, collecting Biggs, and marched past the petrol station and the diner towards a camper that stood at the edge of the village right next to the light barrier keeping the daemons out. It was an old thing but she and her men had stayed in worse places before.

“I don’t think I need to say this but stay there and don’t pull any attention towards you,” said Sophiar his arms crossed over his chest.

During the time they had talked the sun had gone down fully. A cool wind caressed Aranea’s skin in a faint breeze. It reminded her of the time before the snowfields had spread over her home region of Eusciello. Back then it had all been desert dunes mixed with rocky plains.

“Don’t worry Mister Sophiar. This is not the first time we have done something like this,” she answered.

“Somehow I doubt it,” muttered the old man and walked back towards his garage without another word.

“He sure is a grumpy old man,” she heard Biggs say.

“Should have heard him talk to the king,” sounded Wedge’s voice from further into the camper.

“What? No fair. Why do you always get to see the interesting stuff?”

Aranea smirked and let her men bicker for a bit longer. Today hadn’t gone as she had expected at all. Hopefully she had made the right decision in doing this. Tomorrow would certainly be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got far longer than I thought it would. When I started writing this chapter I was like 'I'll be lucky if this will be 2k words long'. Well...  
> I tried to give Aranea some motivation to betray Nifelheim this early into the game. Enter: the Nifelheimr underground resistance. Also, I noticed that this whole time I spelled Nifelheim wrong. It's supposed to be Niflheim. I will not change it now, mostly because I don't want to sift through 50k+ words.   
> Soaring Queen is the name I gave Aranea's airship. The big red one, because it deserves one of its own. The name sounded fitting in my mind.   
> What was really fun to write was the phone call between Cid and Regis. Since it's from Aranea's POV what Regis said is left up to your imagination ;-)  
> Hopefully this chapter got you with a few surprises. :-)
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	19. Noctis VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Noctis has a dream that reminds him of something he can't quite remember, a confrontation happens and a family reunion gets discussed.  
> Featuring: Cabuncle's way of talking, Hiemi being a badass, green magic galore, Noctis' over protectiveness and Solaris being an intelligent and attentive girl.
> 
> Warning: violence.

_?.?.???_

_??_

_??_

 

Noctis knew he was dreaming. There was a taste in the air, a feeling under his skin, that didn’t permit any other conclusion. In front of him, impossibly imposing and grand loomed a gate seemingly made out of the darkest shadows. He could barely make out the rich embellishments, for the light surrounding him was too sickly and weak to really see. 

He had to go through the gate, he knew. Why he couldn’t say, only that it was important. Important enough, that the sickly light let him go from its loving embrace. The light was home and so very, very sad, he didn’t want to leave it alone.

It pushed him forward. The gate was open, if only wide enough for him to slip through. There was darkness and it made him apprehensive. The light couldn’t reach him here and he felt so very vulnerable and naked without it. He blinked.

There was no light. No, that’s not right. There was no  _light source_. A gentle shimmer reached out from above and illuminated a woman. She was terrifying and beautiful and mesmerizing, the amalgamation of every dream he ever dreamed. She slept on a throne so wide she nearly laid down, her head bedded in her arms. Hair, that looked like it caught the stars, flowed down around her face and over the armrest. The shadows, that made her dress, danced over the floor, creasing like cloth, and so dark, Noctis felt like he was falling forward when he looked at it directly for too long. It made her bone pale skin glow gently.

He had been here before, he realized, as he stared at the unhealthy gray smudges under her closed eyes. Years ago when Carbuncle had guided him through his dreams, because he had found himself lost. The Dreamwalker had brought him here to hide from the scourge ravaging his body.

A ball of blueish white fur tumbled out of shadowy folds.

 _Hello Noct_ , said Carbuncle.

The Astral-but-not did not speak. Not like he usually did with him, at last. Rather Noctis felt his welcome, the impression of darkness-that-was-night.

“Hello Carbuncle”, said Noctis and looked at the sleeping woman’s face again. “Who is she?”

The fox like creature brushed against his legs like a cat.  _You know who she is_. 

“Do I?” asked Noctis. He got the impression, that he had forgotten something very important.

 

 

_8.2.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Noctis had known that the hiding would have to come to an end eventually. Only, he had hoped to have more time. He had always thought he’d have more time. Somewhere down the line, there had been a grave miscalculation.

With a dull feeling of resignation he stared down at Umbra who sat next to the water bucket by the well and stared over at them with fathomless eyes. Next to him Solaris took an audible breath with a mix of astonishment and wonder. Her smaller hand found his but he couldn’t take his eyes off Umbra. It was the only thing preventing him from turning around at once, taking his family and finding a new hiding place somewhere. Hypnotized, he stared at the messenger of the Gods. They had finally found him. What he couldn’t explain was: _How?_

“Tata? What’s that?”

Solaris’ voice cut through the fog of despair threatening to blanket his soul. Finally he managed to turn his head a bit and look at his daughter, even if he still kept one eye on Umbra who hadn’t moved since he had first seen him. His grip on her hand tightened, denying her the possibility of stepping closer. Noctis didn’t want to think about what could happen if she did. Honey golden eyes looked up at him. Within them lay caution mixed with silent fear.

“Tata?” she asked again.

“That’s Umbra. He’s a dog and a messenger of the Gods,” he heard himself say through numb lips.

It was strange. It was like he was looking upon this scene from the outside. As if this young man, with the unkempt long black hair, the pale marked skin and the glowing violet eyes wasn’t him and the girl that held his hand wasn’t his daughter, but that was him and that was his daughter.

Slowly he crouched down in front of Solaris and looked her beseechingly into the eyes. Noctis had never really told her why they didn’t go Above, but since there were citizens of Deep City that never did it hadn’t been a problem until now. She gnawed at her lower lip. Sometimes he wondered how much she actually knew. Now however, he had to take care of her safety. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her because of his own cowardice.

“Solaris, you know that I love you very much, right? And I would never let anything happen to you. Please go inside to your mati and stay there. Tell her that Umbra is here and that she can’t come out. Can you do that for me?”

“But-”

“No buts, my sun. Please go.”

Her eyes filled with bitter tears. Something within Noctis froze and cracked at the same time. He would have never thought that he would be responsible to cause his daughter such grief. They hadn’t even managed to really talk about the earthquake and how brave she had been then, too much happening in too little time.

“What if the dog takes you away and I’ll never see you again?” she whispered. Noctis barely heard her. Tenderly, he embraced her and carded his fingers through her hair.

“Oh my brave little sun. You, your brother and your mati are the lights of my life, the air in my lungs. I couldn’t bear to see any of you hurt. The Gods aren’t well-disposed to me and mine. So please go inside the house and stay there.”

He buried his nose in her hair and tried to commit her scent to memory. It was a warm fragrance like the sun in spring when it shone upon buildings made of stone. Eos, please don’t let anything happen to his family. Anything but that. An undefined shadowy warmth and protectiveness flittered behind his heart.

“Then I can stay with you.”

“Don’t say that,” Noctis admonished. “Adopted or not, you’re of my blood and you’re my daughter. Before the Gods and the Laws of men you’re a Lucis Caelum with everything that entails the bad and the good.”

He pressed her body closer to his own. Thin shoulders trembled and he could feel his tunic quickly gaining wet spots. Her fingers twisted the material. “I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna,” she sobbed.

„Me neither my sun, me neither. It-it will be alright. You’ll see.”

Noctis had to concentrate to not let his voice break. The lump in his throat nearly cut off his ability to breath and he fought with his own tears. He felt how she shook her head. Umbra let out a quiet woof. It wasn’t aggressive or menacing, more like a reminder he was still there, but nevertheless every muscle in his body tensed. Carefully he took Solaris by the shoulders and pushed her away. Her eyes were red and swollen and still clear tears fell down mottled cheeks. Noctis wiped them away but new ones came regardless.

“Go now,” he murmured.

By everything that looked kindly upon him, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to leave his wife and children alone he didn’t want to die on the hand of an Astral just because his magic wasn’t what it was supposed to be according to Bahamut’s decree. What kind of world did he live in that he had come to expect death because he could _heal_?

One last time Solaris threw herself into her father’s arms. “I love you very, very much, up to the sky and back again.”

“I love you, too, my sun.”

He watched her as she ran into the house and screamed for her mother. Yes, she didn’t call, she screamed. Relief flooded him and settled upon his shoulders like a heavy blanket. Whatever happened now, she wouldn’t have to witness it. The earth beneath his geta crunched unnaturally loud in his ears.

Umbra still sat next to the water bucket, unmoving like a statue. If he didn’t know any better he would think the messenger one. There weren’t happy barks, no fawning, but especially the lack of these things let him calm down a bit. He knew the consequences.

“Whatever the Gods have planned, I’m ready.” No, no he wasn’t.

Unhurriedly Umbra stood up and stretched. His paws didn’t make a single sound as he trotted towards him. Astonished Noctis looked upon the red neckerchief Umbra wore like a collar. The edge of an envelope peeked out of it. With a madly racing heart and trembling hands he took it. He didn’t need to open the letter to know from who it was.

Luna.

The realization smacked him right in the face. For how long had he ceased to think about her? She had always been there at the edge of his mind but he hadn’t actively thought about her for a long time. He looked at his fingers with their black lines covering them. No, that wasn’t quite right. He had thought about her every time his magic had swept through his body in uncontrolled waves, had broken his skin open and left new black lines behind. The thought of her had been a comfort, especially in the beginning.

Indecisive he weighed the letter in his hands. The envelope was of a crème colour and of the highest quality. Carefully he opened it and pulled out a thick pack of folded paper. That was… unexpected. Noctis had expected many things to happen, but a letter? He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to read it but Umbra didn’t budge from his place, still staring at him with accusatory eyes. So with great care, he unfolded the heavy paper and began to read.

 

_My dear Noctis,_

_despite the long years of silence I feel it time to write one last letter. Within me the hope of being able to hold your answer within my hands still hasn’t faded in its entirety. When Umbra came back near five years ago without an answer from you because he couldn’t find you anymore I feared for the worst. Only the Gods knew of your continued existence and even their ever watchful gaze couldn’t reach you._

_Gentiana was able to gift me at least this assurance. It gave me the strength to continue on my destined path. You are the light of our star, Noctis. Without you the world will be a darker and more dangerous place than it will ever be._

 

Hungrily he devoured line for line of Luna’s elegant handwriting with his eyes and Noctis barely noticed how his legs began to give out and he slowly slid to the ground until he sat there, his back leant against the stone circle of the well. He was so unspeakably glad to hear from her. He would never be able to make it up to her for all the distress he had caused. Nor her, not his father, Ignis or Gladio, but through her words, her worry, a deep-seated hurt he had carried with him for so long that he barely noticed it anymore, became a bit lighter.

He hadn’t even finished reading the first page when he felt a cool breeze drift along the naked skin of his face and arms. Noctis needed a few seconds to register whatever didn’t add up about that. On this lowest level of Insomnia there existed no cold breeze during summer. Until deep into autumn the air stayed heavy and humid. He shuddered and jumped up so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Next to Umbra, her thin hands folded demurely in front of her and her eyes closed, stood Gentiana.

Noctis’ heart ceased to beat for a second before executing a painful lurch. Air refused to flow through his lungs as it normally should, coming and leaving in short bursts that made him dizzy. She looked exactly like she had eleven years ago when Luna had introduced her to him. However now something was different about her contrary to the gentle exterior she had excluded back then. She seemed harder, colder. Green eyes opened and appraised him. Goose bumps traveled through his limbs and prickled on his scalp.

“The Chosen King has been found, the hope of our star remains,” she said, her voice bringing another gust of unnatural cold with it.

“Gentiana!” The word escaped him before he could stop it and at once he cursed himself over it.

The messenger only tilted her head and looked behind him at the clinic. He followed her gaze and came upon a specific window. Ardyn’s window. A dark foreboding feeling made him want to hurl.

„Adagium rests within these walls. The Chosen King should heed her warning: he take care of the black tongue and trust in the words of the Oracle.”

A bitter laugh nearly escaped him. Instead he pressed his lips into a firm line and remained silent. Didn’t she know? Gentiana only looked at him. For some reason Noctis had the impression that she was bewildered. He didn’t fare much better, he had no idea what she was talking about.

“What do the Gods want of me? If it went Bahamut’s” – he spat the name as if it was a foul curse – “way I would have died in my crib,” he snarled bitterly. Yes, he was bitter. He wouldn’t want to change anything if only for his wife and children, but that didn’t mean that he approved of it.

“It was ordained,” said Gentiana and sounded like she was repeating an empty phrase without a deeper meaning. Something unsaid flickered in her gaze.

“You don’t know,” he said at last into the tense silence with the growing realization that somewhere something had gone utterly wrong or horribly right, depending on one’s point of view. “Why are you here, if not to kill me in the name of your King of the Gods?”

“The Chosen King will live until his duty is fulfilled and the new dawn has risen. Then the line of the Lucian kings will come to an end as was promised long ago.”

Noctis felt like the ground was pulled from beneath his feet, letting him crash into a deep and dark pit of despair and fury. He hadn’t just heard that. No. Not his children. He thought about Solaris‘ tear stained face and thanked the light that she wasn‘t with him anymore.

“No,” he whispered and balled his hands into a fist. The weak fluttering behind his heart became stronger and his magic began to boil like hot water. The only thing that held it back from pouring out of him in a wave of senseless destruction was his dwindling will and the thin skin of his body.

“No!” he bellowed and put his entire into that one word.

“Hands away from Healer or you will regret it!”

Instinctively Noctis leaped aside. A ball of poison green fog hurtled past him and exploded in front of Gentiana in a shower of aggressive yellow sparks. As fast as he possibly could he erected a barrier between himself and the falling shrouds of mist. With a feeling of nauseating satisfaction he watched as the face of the she-messenger became an ugly mask of pain. Where the green fog touched her, the skin first grew nasty blisters and then started to melt off. The ground around her took on a sickly black sheen that worried Noctis. Gentiana stood too close to their only reliable water source.

The next moment Hiemi dashed past him her hands and forearms surrounded by winding, glowing shrouds of mist trailing a hail of yellow sparks. Her eyes burned with a desperate fury and protective instincts. Hands held up in Gentiana’s direction, she slid to a stop just centimetres away from the barrier and protectively drew herself up to her full high. Some of the sparks landed with hissing sounds on his barrier and he had to siphon more power into it to prevent them from corroding it.

Noctis’ mouth was dry as dust. She couldn’t be here. He never would forgive himself should something happen to her because the Gods had it out for him. A quiet voice, sounding suspicious like a mix of Gladio and Cor, echoed over the panicked screeching in his head. He had become complacent, had felt too secure after four and a half years of anonymity. This was the moment the enemy always attacked with devastating consequences.

_Primum non nocere._

That was the oath he had taken but he would be damned if he allowed his family, his children, coming to harm. It wasn’t only his imperative to do no harm but to also prevent it wherever he could.

“Hiemi, you-”

“As we’re during the good so we’re during the bad, as we’re in life so we’re in death,” she said in a repeat of their wedding vows with a furious growl in her voice, her gaze solely on Gentiana.

On the other side of the barrier the poisonous green fog had turned into viscous gunk that dripped off of Gentiana in mucilaginous threads, taking with it dissolved patches of skin. Her hair hung into her face, covering her features. Noctis knew that the poison spell couldn’t kill a messenger of the Gods. On unsteady feet she started to take a step towards Hiemi and him.

“Not another step messenger. If you dare to come any closer I’ll turn you into stone and smash your limbs before the spell fades,” hissed his wife and the mist around her hands and forearms gained a stone-grey colouring in warning and preparation. She took on a fighting stance. Her left foot in front of the right, knees bent and weight mostly on the forward foot while her hands were raised in loose fists. He had only seen her seriously use it a handful of times before their reputations became what they were today.

His magic crashed like a tsunami within him. He wanted to reach into his armiger and conjure a weapon. A dagger, a training sword or something that would help Hiemi but he forced himself not to do it. If he did that the magical bond between him and his father would come to life again. His stomach did a somersault. If his father found out where he was through the bond the Lucii would know as well, and through the connection to the crystal so would Bahamut.

Suddenly it got bitterly cold. It was like he was breathing shards of ice. Fear made his heart miss a beat and his gut was reduced to a painful knot. He started to tremble. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw how Hiemi’s face became an expressionless mask, but her eyes blazed with the power of her magic. Crystalline bands added themselves to the mist around her arms and not a second later they danced around his arms as well. Like warm spring air the protection spell caressed his skin and the biting cold was reduced to something bearable.

Gentiana lifted her head. Her eyes had turned a glacial blue. Noctis couldn’t hold their gaze for long without falling head first into the darkness of death-bringing crevasses. The poison froze on her skin and broke into green flakes that floated harmlessly onto the ground. She lifted one hand and her fingers followed thin trails of ice agile like water. Frost began to cover the barrier in elaborate flowery patterns that were utterly beautiful and deadly.

Oh.

Oh no.

As if struck by lightning he stood there, violet eyes wide in shock and a primal fear that befell every human who saw himself confronted with a very force of nature. His breath came in quick bursts that rattled like baneful chains in his ears and burned painfully in his lungs.

“Shiva,” he breathed, stunned.

He felt more than he was how Hiemi next to him flinched. But she stayed where she was. Behind them hurried steps of little feet grew near.

“Mati! Tata!”

No, no no nononono _nono_.

He whirled around, one hand still strengthening the barrier against the growing frost, and saw Solaris and Astra halfway between them and the house running towards them. Behind them sprinted Markus in an attempt to stop them. The face of the older man was white as chalk and his brow furrowed in fierce concentration.

“Stay back,” bellowed Noctis and erected a second barrier, his magic fighting against the heavy and dwindling bonds he had placed it in. The lines on his skin began to shimmer violet-golden.

Both children hit the near invisible wall and cried out in shock and pain. Astra fell onto his bum with a bloody nose and cried big fat tears. Solaris barely managed to pull a shoulder forward and stumbled backwards, carried by her own momentum. Then Markus was with them, grabbed them both, and pulled them back to the door leading into the clinic. All the while the girl yelled obscenities and threats at Gentiana-who-was-Shiva.

At every window, on the ground level and the second storey, that had a view on the happenings, people stood, some hurt, some not, and watched the proceedings in a mixture of fear, panic and a deep seeded trust that Noctis, their Healer, couldn’t comprehend. Casto stood at Ardyn’s window, his fingers gripped the windowsill so tight that his knuckles had turned white.

Noctis clenched his teeth and manipulated the second barrier until it covered the entirety of the huge city mansion that was the clinic. Nothing would happen to his family and these people that were under his protection. Over his dead body – this at the moment had a very high possibility of happening.

At the same time Hiemi hissed like a furious coeurl, her magic prickling against his own, strengthening his spells until the barrier at its curves looked like milky glass. Noctis turned around again. In disbelieve he stared at Gentiana – Shiva – whose figure seemed trapped within a transformation.

Myriads of elaborate braids of snow white hair and blueish skin shimmered like a mirage under her human disguise. Smoky chains had wrapped themselves around her and kept her trapped within action.

Worried, Noctis looked at Hiemi. Her face had turned as white as the snowflakes that hung motionlessly in the air and her limbs trembled in exhaustion. Sweat ran down her brow and froze into clear drops of ice. She wouldn’t be able to hold all these spells for much longer. Feverishly he tried to think of something he could do but the only shielding spell he knew was _Barrier_ and otherwise he was only proficient in white magic and nothing else, which wouldn’t be of much help right now. He cursed.

The near undetectable flutter behind his heart grew into a steady beat. Noctis had no idea what it was but it felt familiar, like shadows and dreams and protection. He reached towards that feeling with both hands. It was as if night had risen within him. The shimmer in his magical scars adapted itself to it. It was like a second heartbeat within his chest. The air around him shimmered like a heat wave.

“Shiva, Death-bringing Cold, gently falling Snow, Companion of Fire Eternal, She-Who-Reigns-over-the-Frosty-Heavens, Daughter of the Second Light, hold.”

His lips weren’t moving, he himself hadn’t moved, but he knew that the foreign voice came from within him. The voice with which they spoke was old and brittle and tired and at the same time so powerful that the shadows around them rippled like water in a pond. For the duration of that one sentence he wasn’t the master of his own body anymore. His ears cracked like after a long distance warp and for a long scary moment he was deaf. Then a painful wheeze washed over him like a snowdrift.

Noctis didn’t have the time to think about it because at the same moment Hiemi’s legs gave out and her spells broke. He rushed over to her to prevent her from falling to the ground. She fell heavily against him and he wound an arm around her waist to keep her upright. Her breaths were heavy like after a too long duration of heavy work. The barriers groaned under the magical backlash. Behind him panicked voices rose. Children cried.

Shiva was free. It had been maybe thirty seconds since his wife had cast the spell to halt her in her actions. What kind of spell had that even been? The form of the Astral retreated again behind the mortal exterior of Gentiana and the painfully cold air warmed up again. In the span of a few seconds snow and frost had vanished. But Geniana – or rather Shiva – didn’t vanish like Noctis had hoped she would after this, even if he had absolutely no idea what had just happened and why he didn’t freak out more about it. Instead she dipped into a curtsy that was so deep that it nearly looked like a reverence. Hiemi and Noctis gasped at the same time in astonishment.

Not even a minute ago the Glacian had tried to force him to do… something by threatening his family and now she did this. The flutter behind his heart grew weaker and weaker until he couldn’t feel it anymore, but he knew it was still there. It would always be there like it had been all his life even if he hadn’t known it was. He wondered: did his father have it, too?

“She will leave now, her task fulfilled. May the oldest grace be a lynchpin for the Chosen King.”

With that she was gone in a gust of cool air. Paralyzed, Hiemi and Noctis were left behind with Umbra in the clinic’s courtyard. What in the name of Pitioss? Nothing moved, the world seeming to hold its breath to see which way the stones of fortune would fall. Noctis let the barriers down and the moment was over. The patients in his clinic started to talk all over each other in hushed whispers. Some cried, others prayed but all looked upon him and his wife in wonder and awe. Noctis already hated it and he knew it would get worse. Never would they be able to contain word of what had happened just now.

Two little cannonballs ran against their legs and nearly toppled them over. Solaris fisted her hands in the folds of her parents’ tunics and buried her head against her mother’s stomach.

“Astra, your nose,” said Noctis in a hushed tone of voice and tried to get a better look at his son’s face but the little boy just clung tighter to his leg.

After the second try Noctis gave up and proceeded to simply hug his family, concentrating on the warmth of their bodies against his own and the sound of their breaths. He was here and so were they. Everything else could wait for a little while. Suddenly they sat on the dusty dirt that was the ground and he had no idea how they had gotten there, Hiemi pressed close to him and the children in their laps.

“You’re still there, you’re still there. You’re not gone,” sobbed Solaris again and again although she had ceased to cry some time ago.

“Everything will be okay. We’re both here and we’ll go nowhere without you,” murmured Hiemi into the girl’s wild hair soothingly.

Noctis burrowed his face into the crook of his wife’s neck and tried to just breathe. It didn’t really work. Within the darkness of his closed eyes flowed pale shadows like liquid. He forced them open and pressed Astra closer to him. The boy sat in his lap curled into a ball of trembling short limbs. Somehow Noctis was reminded of shortly after the earthquake. It would be some time before the children would be able to recover from all this. He had no idea what to do now.

Finally Astra looked up, gaze wandering from his father to his mother and back again. Blood had dried around his nose, the lips and on his chin. His t-shirt, too, had darkening spots on the washed out material and his straight nasal bone now had a slight crook. It was obviously broken, but luckily it didn’t bleed anymore and the swelling was, strangely, non-existent.

“Is the bad woman gone?” he asked with a twang that hadn’t been there before.

“Yes, she’s gone,” said Noctis and pulled his upper body up a bit. “Now let me look at your nose. It looks like it hurts and we don’t want that, do we?”

He reached out for his son’s face but the boy shrunk back and shook his head. “Soli made it whole again.”

“What?”

Solaris shrugged and refused to look up. Noctis looked to Hiemi. She looked just as perplexed as he was.

“Solaris?” she asked but their daughter didn’t react. “Little one, please look at me. What’s your brother mean? You know that you can tell us everything, right?”

Time went by and she didn’t react. Noctis wanted to say something, even if he had no idea what he could say, as his little girl slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were still red and swollen and she looked scared. Hesitantly she lifted her hand. Her face contorted into a mask of deep concentration that looked alien on such a young face, but she always got when she tried to read his books, where she didn’t know all the words. Her hand began to shimmer. It wasn’t the curious violet-gold of his magic or even the midnight blue of his father’s, but rather a liquid crimson like a fiery sunrise.

“Oh, my brave little sun,” breathed Noctis in a strangled voice. Never would he have thought that one of his children – adopted or not – would have magic that wasn’t black or green magic. After all the Lucis Cealum line had done everything within its power to eradicate the possibility. On the other hand he couldn’t be the first one who had fled from Bahamut’s edicts.

“Thank you for showing us this. I’m so proud of you.”

Gently he too her shimmering hand and leaned forward. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead. A spark of his magic gently nudged against hers and the bond between a magical parent and their child that, until now, had been passive, gained life. Solaris gasped and tried to hug Hiemi and him at the same time.

Noctis began to laugh. He laughed until the tears came and the muscles in his stomach ached. Solaris laughed with him. As did the others until all of them sat on the dusty ground and laughed until they couldn’t anymore.

 

They all sat in the kitchen, not wanting to leave each other’s sight. Noctis knew that the bed this night would be very crowded. He felt Astra’s hand gripping his cloth belt and carded his hand through his son’s black hair. His face had been cleaned of the dried blood and he wore a new t-shirt but because of his sister’s healing his nose would stay crooked if Noctis didn’t break it again and he didn’t want to put Astra through that if he didn’t have to.

At least no one else had been seriously hurt during the whole ordeal.

Normally there was always somebody in the kitchen even if it was just somebody he barely knew who was looking for a free meal. But now the big room was empty except for them and Umbra who had lain down in front of the hearth and kept watching them with alert eyes. It made Noctis more than a bit twitchy after he’d had to tolerate the reverent looks of his patients.

The children couldn’t keep looking away for long and even Hiemi sneaked a glance now and then. He supposed that he was the only one here who had ever seen a dog up close. The silence in the room held until Astra couldn’t keep still anymore and toddled over to the animal.

“Astra! Get back here,” said Noctis but the boy didn’t listen.

Instead he crouched down in front of Umbra, his stormy eyes wide and curious, and started to clumsily pet him. To Noctis’ relief Umbra held still, his only reaction being a lazy wag of his tail. A big grin spread on the boy’s face.

“Soli. Soli, look. His hair is so soft.”

“It’s called fur, little star,” said Hiemi from her place at the counter where she proceeded to brew tea and always kept an eye on the messenger in her kitchen. She already looked better after she had taken an ether, not as pale anymore and her movements steady.

Astra nodded. “Okay.”

Solaris just threw Umbra a dark look and pressed herself closer to Noctis. Today had taken any curiosity from her when it came to dogs. Noctis himself didn’t like his son being so close to a messenger of the Gods.

“Astra, would you come for a moment, please?”

At once the boy backed off and came to him. His smile lit up his whole face. Noctis marveled at his ability to bounce back, but he didn’t doubt that more was to follow.

“Papa, a dog! He licked my hand. Can he stay?”

Noctis crouched down in front of both his children with a serious face. “I want you two to know that I’m very proud of you and that I love you very much. You both were so brave today. But if you do something so stupid again there will be serious consequences. Is that understood?”

Had they smiled just a moment ago, now they both looked down in embarrassment. “But we wanted to help,” grumbled Astra and Solaris threw him a pointed look.

“I know little star, but you two could have gotten hurt. It isn’t your job to look after us, but the one of mati and tata to look after you. That’s what we’re here for. That and to give you so many hugs you’ll get sick of them.”

He pulled them both close. They giggled. Noctis looked up and saw Hiemi looking at them with a smile. She nodded at him and he knew what she meant. _You did well._ Grinning he reached around Astra and blew his wife a kiss. She rolled her eyes, but still she mimed catching the kiss and pressing her fist against her lips. They ignored their children who pulled silly faces at the action even if Astra just imitated Solaris. _By the light of the sun, the embarrassing parents._

“Can I learn magic now? Mati said I’ve got to ask you,” asked Solaris with a hopeful look on her face.

“Yes, you can. But not today,” he added when he saw her opening her mouth again.

“Me too, tata?” Noctis saw himself confronted with a huge pleading pair of storm grey eyes.

“When you’re older, little star. At least as old as Solaris.”

“But that’s so long. I wanna learn now.”

“When you’re older,” repeated Noctis. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Will you help me set the table, Solaris?” asked Hiemi and started to take a stack of plates out of one of the cabinets beneath the counter.

The girl hesitated for a moment, looked at Astra, Noctis, Hiemi and back again before she nodded and went to her mother. Astra made a face and stuck out his tongue at him.

“Hey!” admonished Noctis and grabbed the boy by the upper arm. Sternly he looked at his son. “Don’t you dare to do that again young man or there’ll be no story for you after dinner.”

Sullenly Astra stared back but lowered his gaze after a few moments.

“What do you say?”

“I a-po-lo-gi-ze.” He carefully stressed every syllable of the complicated word.

“Good,” said Noctis, smiled and tousled his son’s hair.

Astra grinned and skipped back to Umbra who was watching him attentively. Noctis reached into the pockets of his shorts and pulled out Luna’s letter. The pages had become rumpled and a few had ripped during all that had happened. He smoothed them over as best as he could. When the children went to bed he would finish reading it. Thoughtfully he folded it back up and put it away again.

So, they had found him.

The thought didn’t cause any less panic than it had this midday. He figured it wouldn’t take that long for his father to hear about it. Should he go up and turn himself in? He made a face. That sounded like he was a criminal. He sighed audibly. Hiemi walked past him with a huge pan full of potato noodles with bacon and mushrooms. It smelled very good. When they had a minute to get some air they would talk this through, he decided.

“Did someone talk already with Aes about the support beams?” he asked Hiemi and put his full fork into his mouth.

“Sax talked it over with her this morning. He’d wanted to tell you after lunch, but well… He’d asked her if it would be possible to find all the materials on the Heaps. She knows which machines Sax needs – and that’s a wonder if you asked me – but some of the parts’re made of mithril.”

“Damn. It’s always that Gods damned mithril,” said Noctis and sighed. He tried to hide his frustration but he didn’t know how well he managed it. Yet another reason to think about going to the citadel.

“You could always send a message to him. Chew first and then swallow Astra,” said Hiemi.

“Who?”

“You tata of course.”

Noctis suppressed his kneejerk reaction of immediate denial. They’d had this discussion a few times already and never had they been able to come to a satisfying result.

“And you think that’ll work? How would I even do it?” he rehashed a years old argument.

“You mean natata?” asked Solaris. She sat straight backed on her chair and watched Hiemi and him with a curious air about her.

“That’s right. I think it’s about time we say hello,” answered Hiemi with a sharp glance in his direction.

Noctis huffed, irritated.

“Can he help us? Because of the beams I mean.”

Astonished Noctis looked at Hiemi, who only shrugged, just as at a loss as he was.

“From where did you hear that?” he wanted to know.

Solaris shrugged with one shoulder and pushed the food on her plate around with her fork. “Markus talked about it with Lily when I was rolling up bandages. Is it true? Do we have to go away from here before the ceiling falls on our heads? I don’t want to go.”

Shocked Astra let go of his fork. It clattered from his plate onto the tabletop. “I don’t wanna! The ceiling can’t fall down!”

“The ceiling won’t fall down on our heads,” asserted Hiemi. “Whoever first said that, lied.”

Both children stared at her. Astra believed her at once but Solaris wasn’t as convinced. She scrutinized her food like it had personally offended her.

“Can’t natata help?” she asked at last.

“What?”

“With the beams,” said Solaris slowly as if Noctis was Astra’s age. He didn’t really know if he should be amused about it or offended. “You said he can’t see us because he’s bu-sy because he’s helping people. We need help now so he’s got to see us.” She said it like it was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world.

“Would you like to write him a letter? Then you could ask for help yourself. Your natata’ll never be able to say no to that,” suggested Hiemi.

Noctis stared at her, stunned. What was she planning? She just smiled at him, that fatal humour in her dark green gaze, making it a shade lighter. Good Gods. When she looked at him like that something always crashed around him.

“I’ll do that,” said Solaris, nodding seriously.

“I wanna write, too,” said Astra and waved his arm as if it was an oar.

“You can’t even write yet,” said his older sister.

“Hey, I can!”

“No, you don’t.”

“You could draw a picture for him,” suggested Noctis quickly, hoping to mitigate the looming argument. Both nodded satisfied and he breathed out a sigh of relief. The decision seemed to have been made without his input.

All the darkness in Pitioss.

Why was he so happy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Magic.  
> *takes a deep breath*  
> I hope this gave a good idea how green magic actualy works outside of brewing all kinds of potions. I can't decide if Hiemi was brave or stupid, standing against Shiva like that. Ah, well...  
> What happened when Noctis spoke-but-not will remain a mystery for a bit longer. I don't know if some of you'll be able to guess already. Sometimes I find things very obvious other's don't and the other way around.  
> Shiva/Gentiana was being... well, first would be very relieved. To find him she followed Umbra's trail who himself was following Ardyn's. What she absolutely didn't expect was what happened then. That was somehting she doesn't want to confront so she backed off as fast as she could. (But not without leaving a cryptic hint because she just can't help herself.)  
> So Solaris is a red mage. Surprise? I already said she was a Lucis Caelum by blood, just that Noctis has no idea where her branch of the family comes from, because there shouldn't exist any side branches. But then again there is Ardyn, too, so maybe the main family should keep a better track on bastards or something.^^  
> Just a warning: no one will march up to the citadel quite yet for the great family reunion. A few things still have to happen before that.  
> Natata is the Deep City word for grandfather and I totally made that one up^^
> 
> Next up: Prompto! (finally)


	20. Prompto I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Prompto goes on an adventure and feels like a real life detective. Sort of.  
> Fearuring: Mister Posh Guy's poshness, Sir Furia being furious, Prompto's love for old detective flicks and camp number twelve that shouldn't be there.

_8.2.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Upper Districts_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Prompto stepped through the cracked glass doors of the newspaper agency, out of the cool building and into the hot evening air, a bit perturbed. Okay, he was more than a bit perturbed. He was pissed. Frustrated with himself he gnashed his teeth and stomped down the empty street.

Never before had he realized what a racist prick his boss was. In hindsight it was fairly clear, as he was the only person of Niflheimr descent that worked in a higher position than simple maintenance and even then his wage was shit. He suspected he’d only gotten the job in the first place because he had a very Lucian name. It was even very Insomnian if he were honest.

 _All reporters have their own projects already and I would hate to pull them away to just give them more work. I think you would understand your people the best_ , his ass!

The towering glass office building across the street from the neo-classical one that housed the newspaper leaned dangerously to the left. It would have to be torn down, Prompto supposed, seeing as there was yellow _do-not-cross!_ and _danger!_ tape everywhere.

A bit down the street he came across a slew of people and heavy machinery clearing the broken street and the place where, until yesterday, two of those artsy buildings had stood. The earthquake had caused them to crash into each other. It had made quite the picture and Prompto had promptly taken one after he’d made sure no one had died in there. It would just be creepy to take a picture of a place – that wasn’t a cemetery – of which he knew dead people were in.

He carefully made his way along the designated areas for pedestrians and showed his press ID to the grumpy man from the City Watch at the checkpoint. Civilians were still forbidden from most public areas in Insomnia and it was only his job as a photographer at _Insomnian Times_ that allowed him to move relatively freely through the city.

Harsh winds blew dust and dirt from the many construction sites into his face and he coughed. From the west an ominous wall of dark clouds was pressing near, a bit like a few days ago shortly before the earthquake. The following rain had made the first response quite difficult. He hoped it wasn’t some king of bad omen.

The Dispatching Centre was situated in the old, abandoned Niflheimr embassy made of mostly stone that was situated in the government district. Prompto passed another two checkpoints, both watchmen as grumpy as the first one, their eyes following him in suspicion even after they let him through. He tried to ignore it as best as he could, but it still sent a discomforting feeling through his gut.

He passed through the fancy iron gates of the fenced in area in which the old embassy stood, where yet another guy in a black uniform wanted to see he ID, and made his way into the building to look for Sir Furia.

On their way up here the older man hadn’t said a word to him, only growled periodically like some kind of animal. It had been scary as all hell, but he could understand it. Sort of. If he tilted his head sideways and squinted.

Prompto saw the old van they had arrived in parked in a corner next to a row of dusty but new delivery vans while he moved through the dense crowd of people moving hectically every which way. The contrast between the vehicles was quite startling. He couldn’t resist the urge to take a picture of it. Grinning happily at having found such a cool motive, he skipped his way past the reception, waving at the overtired looking receptionist who stared at him with a flat look on her face, towards the stairs.

He consulted the improvised signs for the office responsible for the distribution of goods for Number Five – as he’d come to call it in his head – and saw that the guy – or rather woman in this case – was responsible for Centres four through eight. Poor gal.

He climbed the rather utilitarian stone steps up to the second floor then walked down a rather narrow hallway. Most doors were open and he could hear shreds of conversations as he maneuvered around boxes full of files and past a line that had formed in front of a printer that leisurely spat out paper.

The atmosphere was tense and stressed. People looked like they hadn’t slept since all this had started. Prompto took a picture of the line in front of the printer. A rather obese guy with a pile of paper under one arm and a chocolate bar in the other hand glared at him with red rimmed eyes. The blond scuttled off with a nervous smile.

Sir Furia’s voice sounded down the hallway long before Prompto even reached the door. “- your superior now! You cannot seriously tell me half the deliveries being faulty or not arriving at all isn’t a deliberate act! So sit down and do your damned job!”

Prompto stood in front of the open door of the second to last office and glanced in nervously. He didn’t have any desire to get dragged into the confrontation. Inside were to his surprise three people. Sir Furia stood there, hands balled to fists at his side and posture furious. A corpulent woman with her black hair bound into a tail at the base of her neck sat in a chair behind a desk overflowing with papers, looking absolutely frazzled. Last in the tiny room was a young man around Prompto’s age, maybe a bit older, with sandy blond hair and glasses. He wore a neatly pressed shirt and trousers and looked like the typical blue blooded highborn.

“Sir Furia, I have to ask you to continue in a more moderate tone. I’m certain Mrs. Custodela does what she can under these circumstances.”

Wow, the guy even sounded posh. Furia scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The woman behind the desk looked like the posh guy was her personal hero. Her chin was wobbling and she looked like she would start to cry at any moment. Mister Posh Guy pushed is glasses up his nose and turned towards her, keeping the Glaive always within sight.

“Mrs. Custodela, would you be amendable to my assistance in organizing the supplies and deliveries towards the Reception Centres under your purview? Five Centres for one person seems a bit much to handle, considering One through Three have one person each to shoulder the considerable responsibilities.”

She blinked up at him and gave a jerky nod. Mister Posh Guy nodded himself.

“Good,” he said, “now, Sir Furia, do you have the protocols I asked of Lord Amicitia?”

Prompto nearly choked on his spit. That was Ser Amicitia’s connection in the citadel? Holy Bahamut. Furia didn’t look like he did fare any better. The man nodded, his face pinched like he ate something awful, and pulled a stack of folders from his bag. Mister Posh Guy took them, glanced at the mess on the desk and clamped them under his arm.

“Thank you,” he said all prim and proper.

Hesitantly Prompto stepped into the small room now that it seemed like none of the occupants were jumping at each other’s throat.

“Eh, hi,” he said, waved awkwardly, and gripped his camera tightly with his other hand. The other three occupants turned to look at him. “I’m Prompto. I came with Sir Furia.”

Mister Posh Guy raised an eyebrow while Prompto tried not to fidget under the scrutiny.

“Mister Argentum the photographer, I presume. Gladiolus told me about you. My name is Ignis Scientia.”

Mister Posh Guy – Scientia – held out his hand. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile and tried not to blush in embarrassment as they shook hands. “Would it be alright if I…,” he gestured from his camera towards the desk.

“Mrs. Custodela, would you be amendable for a photograph?” asked Scientia.

“Of course, of course. Anything to help,” the woman said and dragged her hands through her bedraggled hair in an attempt to turn her ponytail into something presentable. “What should I do?”

Was it rude to tell her to just sit there and look pretty? Probably. So he just smiled and told her to do as she normally would without them here.

Prompto took a few photos and even managed to sneak a few pictured of Mister Posh Guy. A huge grin formed on his face as he managed to talk the man and the employee to pose for a picture. Or two, or three.

He still grinned as he and Sir Furia left the stuffy office while Mrs. Custodela fell over herself to help Mister Posh Guy to bring everything in order.

“It will take a while to see what went wrong, but I can guarantee that every delivery from now on will be complete and punctual. Mrs. Custodela, I would like the number plates and the names of the drivers of every van that delivers to Reception Centre four and lower,” he had said.

Outside the sun had set but it was still hot. The only difference to inside being that the air was marginally fresher and smelled marginally of rain and ozone. Prompto took a relieved breath. Today had certainly been eventful and he had the chance of his lifetime.

They sat down in the car and at once he started to rummage for the pen and paper he had filched from the building. Time to start composing his very first article. Furia gave him a sideways glance.

“If you want to interview me now, think again,” he said, sounding calmer than in the poor woman’s office but still quite agitated.

Prompto nodded vigorously and wondered silently what had crawled up that guy’s ass and died.

They were about halfway back already when Sir Furia’s phone rang. It was a shrill tone causing Prompto to jerk in surprise and dragging his pen over the while page.

“Aw, man,” he muttered and cast a pointed look at Furia who simply ignored him in favour of answering his phone.

“Tredd here,” he said courtly as he continued to drive down the narrow street.

People living in the buildings left and right stuck out their heads to see who was driving by. Some of them were clearly not happy as they saw the old government van. Not that Prompto could really blame them. The curfew was still in effect and people had been forced out of their houses and apartments without clear reasoning. He wondered what would happen if he were to go to his parents’ house instead of his small apartment in the Middle _Aquilonalis Vicus_.

He considered it and threw the idea out as fast as it had appeared. His parents were outside Insomnia on a business trip at the moment and this way he may actually be able to help people. Like the prince had done with all the charities and stuff. He grinned.

“Seriously? You want me to do what now?” Furia’s raised voice brought him out of his reverie. “All right, all right. Whatever the big boss says, we poor immigrants will do. Where’s that camp supposed to be? Yeah, yeah, shouldn’t take me too long. I will no need to sound like my mother. Yes. Later, and I expect a big dinner when I get back, for blondie here, too, I suppose. Yes, yes. Bye.”

Prompto didn’t know if he should be insulted or not for being called blondie, but he would get dinner so he would let it slide this once. But only this once.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in trepidation.

“ _Apparently_ ,” answered Furia and put impressive emphasis on the word, “there’s something strange going on with Camp 12. Crowe doesn’t know what and neither does Amicitia, but some of the other lower Centres called and claim that something fishy is going on down there.”

Prompto needed a moment to process that. He could literally see the loading screen in front of his eyes. “Since when do we have _twelve_ Reception Centres?”

“The camera man can think, bravo. We don’t have twelve. There’s only eleven,” came the sarcastic answer.

“Where does it come from?” asked Prompto and tried not to bristle. Excuse him! Of course he could think. Just because Furia had his head so far up his ass that he couldn’t think straight, didn’t mean everyone did.

“That’s exactly what we two are going to find out now.”

“Now?” Prompto swallowed.

“No next Founder’s Day. Of course now. You even get to take the pictures. How’s that?”

Prompto didn’t like it at all. He really shouldn’t have asked the man to take him with him to the upper districts today. But he hadn’t been able to do nothing and after his talk with Gladio and Sir Khara he hadn’t been able to sit still anymore. He needed to do something. And if this something was getting more help, all the better. Sadly, that hadn’t worked out like he’d hoped it would. He relaxed his grip around the pen. He had held it so tight it was a wonder it hadn’t snapped already.

“Okay then,” he said with false cheer. “Let’s do some detective work! I’ve always wanted to do that like in the movies. What’s your favourite detective flick?”

His enthusiasm got him an amused snort. That was better than another rebuke, so he kept grinning and continued to talk, not caring if he got an answer or not. It was always better than the tense silence they had shared before.

* * *

 

Prompto hopped out of the car after Furia had turned the engine off and wondered how there could be a camp for people who had lost their homes in this place. The area was dark with next to no natural light filtering down here, seeing as it was past 8pm already that at last didn’t really surprise him. Also the buildings around them couldn’t still be livable, could they?

He was fairly sure this was one of the areas that had been declared abandoned and unlivable because of its state of disrepair and living conditions, or rather their lack thereof. Not that that had to mean anything, but there was quite a difference between a few homeless people and a whole camp of people.

Sir Furia walked ahead along a street of cobbled stone that was in a surprisingly good condition, as were all the buildings around them considering no one had lived in them for over a hundred years and the earthquake that had happened. Prompto looked at the shadowy silhouettes of the ruins surrounded by a halo of artificial light, and couldn’t resist the urge to take a picture. It was quite the striking image, a haunting beauty.

He shook his head and followed the Glaive down the street. They hadn’t parked far from the mysterious camp, just far enough that their car wouldn’t be heard or seen as they arrived.

Prompto came to a stop next to Sir Furia in the shadows between two clinker constructions that could have been warehouses once upon a time but now lacked a functioning roof, with a good view of the camp.

It was quite clear at first glance already that this was no centre for people who had lost their homes during the earthquake. Floodlights illuminated a chaos of halfway ordered material that was – for lack of any other word – junk. It looked too new to be an ordinary junk yard and there were too many people running around.

The camp extended from the sizable crossroads it was situated in, into a few buildings across from where they were hiding. They were also old warehouses. One of the ones in use lacked quite a bit of its front wall and gave a free view of rows upon rows of tables and tanks of water where scrap metal was being cleaned. It was sorted, loaded onto carts and then carted off to Bahamut knew where.

A tall woman with dark skin and black, long dreadlocks stood upon a stack of crates and directed the people carrying stuff to and fro. A cart with more junk arrived and at once people were swarming it and started to sort it into a system Prompto didn’t even attempt to understand.

Sir Furia’s elbow in his side startled him out of his staring. The man cast a meaningful look from his camera towards the camp where illegal activity just _had_ to be going on, and at once he stated to take pictures. It was kind of exiting, he supposed, in that heart-stopping if-they-discover-us-we’re-dead way.

He made sure to zoom in and get as many faces as he could, especially from the supposed leader and the guy who brought the cart. Maybe this was some kind of black market thing.

Another woman climbed up the crates where the leader stood and started talking to her. She had the classical Insomnian look with black hair, peppered with silver streaks that showed her age, cut short, pale skin and startling light green eyes. She would have been quite beautiful, if her features hadn’t been strangely asymmetrical. Both of them started to argue quite heatedly. Prompto made sure to also get a good picture of her.

Sadly they were too far away to hear what any of them were saying, but if they had been any closer he would have died of nervous jitters.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Sir Furia tapped his shoulder to get his attention. The Glaive seemed to radiate a tension that said he was ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but at the same time he was also more relaxed, as if he was in his element. That couldn’t be that far off, Prompto supposed. Most of the people still in the Kingsglaive had been serving for years now. They got barely any new recruits and if they did, most didn’t last long. Working for a newspaper had its upsides when it came to information.

With a jerk of his head back towards where they had parked their car, Furia gave the signal to retreat. Prompto did so gladly. While he loved old detective flicks – they were one of his guilty pleasures – he didn’t want to sneak around and photograph potentially violent people without them knowing. If they found out the consequences wouldn’t be pretty.

“What was that?” he asked as they sat safely in the van on their way back towards Number Five.

For a while Sir Furia didn’t say anything. “That,” he answered at last when Prompto thought he would ignore him again, “was an illegal transfer site. If you do it right you can rake in quite a bit of money.”

Prompto _really_ didn’t want to know how Furia knew that. Instead he did the sensible thing and started to ramble about his favourite hero in one of the many detective flicks he’d seen. He was quite hungry now that he didn’t have to fear for his life anymore and he didn’t want to talk or even think about it on an empty stomach, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!  
> Hope I got it right, Prompto is proving to be quite difficult. Quirky nervous energy is quite elusive. I kind of like him playing off of Tredd who really doesn't like anybody who isn't a Glaive and even then not nearly all of them. The guy is like a boiling pot and I can't wait until it explodes.   
> Also, yes, the boss of camp twelve is Aes. What are they doing there? That will come into play later. The other woman is another important person in Deep City that didn't have the opportunity to enter the stage yet.  
> Aquilonalis Vicus is Latin and literally means northern district. (Very creative, I know)
> 
> Next up: Aranea!


	21. Aranea III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which allies need to be contacted, Aranea decides she likes that dangerous Glaive even if he can be rather dumb, the whole of the Immortal's fanclub would be totally jealous, if they knew what she was doing and negotiations happen.
> 
> Featuring: Takka's nervousness, Cindy being called Cidney (fight me) and Cid being done with all of this.

_8.3.755 ME_

_Leide, Hammerhead_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

The sunrise painted the clouds a cotton candy pink and the air smelled fresh and of earth just after the rain – petrichor it was called, she thought – after the storm that had come upon them during the night. Aranea leaned against the outer side of the camper and gazed towards the horizon and chose to take it as a sign of Ramuh that she was on the right path. _A storm will never guide you wrong_ , the people of her tribe used to say before Shiva had frozen everything. Now most of them were dead.

Behind her Biggs and Wedge argued about something or other in hushed voices. Or rather, Biggs argued at Wedge. A smile tugged at her lips. Those two would never change.

The morning had a calm to it that completely belied the things that had happened yesterday and she knew would happen today.

Aranea snorted. Now was not the time to be brooding. There was too much to do today, especially before the negotiations happened. She couldn't predict at all what would happen and that worried her.

A cool breeze caressed her skin as she pushed herself away from the camper's wall and took the two steps towards the open door.

“Oy, Biggs! Get your ass out of the bathroom and get a message to our friends in hiding.” She raised her voice just enough to be heard, even if Hammerhead was still practically deserted.

Quiet cursing reached her. “Got it, Lady A. What about?”

Wedge sat on the sofa next to the door and nodded at her before he started to set up their bare bones communications system they had taken with them. For safe communication at that distance they would need to be a tad creative.

“Tell them they need to move on to other shores. A new player has entered the game and he's very good at hiding and not very nice. And check in with the crew.”

“You sure we should do it from here? The system we brought can do short and middle range no problem, but all the way to Gralea is pretty risky. The system on _Soaring Queen_ would be better suited for this kind of thing,” said Biggs and stepped out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam.

“You're right, but they need to move. If Glauca can get his fingers on some of the best guarded information in Insomnia of all places you can't tell me he hasn't had his ears out for our friends.”

“You mean the near misses,” said Wedge to her right.

“Mother of all Malboros,” cursed Biggs and strode towards the table where Wedge was still setting up the communications system. “Scoot over, Wedge. This will take some time if we don't want to give away our location and that of our friends.”

Aranea stepped back and turned around to view the wide space between the diner and the petrol station. It wasn't as empty anymore. A pair of locals was on their way towards the diner, likely to get breakfast, casting curious glances in her direction. She chose to ignore them.

Someone stepped out of the diner, wearing an apron and carrying a stack of boxes. The locals greeted him with obvious respect. They exchanged a few sentences before the man in the apron moved on towards the camper. His skin was dark and his whole posture screamed hesitation even at the shrinking distance.

“G-g-good morning,” the man stuttered in greeting.

That stutter would have had him beaten up and mugged in the bowels of Gralea within seconds. The hidden steel within his dark brown eyes, however, would make every intelligent mugger back off rather quickly.

“Good morning,” she greeted, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

The man set down the three boxes on one of the round plastic camping tables, their white more of a dirty grey from age, the elements and lack of proper care.

“I ha-have b-b-brought you breakfast,” he said and twitched a nervous smile.

“Thank you,” Aranea said.

She didn't move from her place against the camber's outer wall she had reclaimed. A knife between the ribs was the last thing she would need right about now because she scared this jumpy guy. He gave her another nervous smile, turned around and retreated back into the diner. Her gaze followed him until he'd vanished through the door. The pair of locals waited next to it, watching the proceedings with keen eyes. Aranea raised her eyebrows. At least the people here watched out for each other, she thought with a spark of respect.

She took two of the boxes and carried them inside where Wedge stood by the window with an antenna in his hand, holding it out to Bigg's instructions, who sat in front of a forest of cables and a box he'd screwed open.

“Breakfast is here, boys,” she said and set the boxes down next to a mess of screws and small metal parts.

“Fucking finally. I was worried they'd show their famous friendliness of foreigners that aren't Tenebraean,” groused Biggs and Wedge hummed in agreement.

“Eat your breakfast, Biggs. I, for my part, am quite happy that they aren't showing themselves from their best side. I'll be outside and see if I can't get a glimpse of the person who'll be my dance partner during the negotiations. Keep me updated.”

“Sure thing, Lady A,” called Biggs after her as she left the camper with its humid air again.

Outside the air had started to grow noticeably hotter and the wind blew the first gusts of dust along with it. Aranea sat down on one of the plastic chairs and pulled the box containing her breakfast towards her. Inside there was some lukewarm bacon, scrambled eggs, a thick slice of dark bread with a crunchy crust, a sliced apple and a plastic cup of watered down coffee. It was better than she had expected.

The rumbling sound of an arriving car made her look up. An old car that looked like it wouldn't make it very far anymore, parked in front of Mister Sophiar's garage. At first she thought it was here for simple repairs – Ramuh knew that old scrap metal thing really needed it – but then the door on the shotgun side opened and General Leoins came into view.

Aranea felt her spine grow more rigid. So her dance partner was to be the Immortal. Even the members of the upper echelons in Nifelheim feared this man and she knew that the normal soldiers that still were in its army had a fan club that bordered upon a cult in some cases. Most notably that cretin Loqi. That particular love-hate relationship that fool had going on was just not normal.

Their eyes met and for a moment she felt the full weight of his icy stern gaze upon her. She threw him a cheeky grin and a slight nod. The General gave a nod of his own before he turned back towards the driver of the car who she still couldn't see and said something she couldn't hear, before he made his way inside the garage.

The car maneuvered towards the parking lot and out stepped a man that clearly wasn't Insomnian, and even Lucian was debatable despite his dark hair. He was too far away for her to see his eye colour, but something about his physique and skin colour didn't quite fit that ethical group. The man turned his head and the braids became visible. Galahdian then.

Interesting choice.

This wasn't the captain of the Kingsglaive, however.

The man saw her and made his way over. He moved with the grace of a wild animal that she could appreciate. She couldn't hear his steps on the asphalt. The fine hairs on her neck stood on end. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

“Well hello there, Sir Glaive,” she greeted once he was close enough.

Aranea leaned back and remained seated, her hands in sight on the table. The Glaive's face remained carefully expressionless but still she could see the slight rise of his eyebrow that belied his astonishment at seeing her. His eyes were an astonishing blue.

“Commodore Highwind,” he said in way of greeting, a clear Galahdian accent tinting his voice.

“No 'Good morning'? No introductions? For shame, Sir Glaive. The Insomnians must've stolen your manners.”

The skin around his eyes tightened.

“Nyx Ulric,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Ulric.

Aranea's hands involuntarily clenched into fists. She knew that name. This was the man that by all rights should have been a captain already for his deeds. The Hero of the Kingsglaive who never left anyone behind if he could help it. She could appreciate that.

“Have a seat while we wait, Nyx Ulric. I'm sure your General and Mister Sophiar have quite a few things to discuss. We may as well talk for a bit. Regrettably I can't offer any refreshments.”

Ulric took the offered chair, his spine and shoulders stiff and his eyes carefully guarded. For a few heartbeats there was silence between them which Aranea used to catalogue the subtle armour under his long-sleeved t-shirt. She had to applaud his sense of subtlety.

A daring grin played across his face and made his eyes spark. “See what you like?”

Her answering grin was equally daring and just as sharp and full of teeth. She could think of many answers to that and it would have been fun to truly flirt again. However with an internal sigh she let it go and changed the topic instead.

“Tell me something, Sir Ulric. It's had me wondering since we cracked the chip. How frustrating is it to face disciplinary actions for acts you should have been promoted for?”

His whole face went slack in surprise. Aranea couldn't decide if he was surprised she knew of if he was plain ignorant as to not know his military's guidelines for promotion. Even she knew the gist of them.

“What the- How do you- What?”

She grinned and shifted her weight into a more relaxed and comfortable position. Behind her she could hear Biggs give Wedge some last instructions before he started sending, the rhythmic beeps a comforting sound. It was unexpected to get the Glaive so flustered.

“What is that?” he asked, clearly hearing the sounds coming from the camper. Sharp ears, that one.

“One of my companions is merely contacting the rest of my crew to let them know that they don't have to launch a rescue mission just yet.”

His gaze clearly said that he didn't believe her. She shrugged. Just as well. Her goal here wasn't to make him believe her as long as he started to think. Which he clearly didn't do enough with people he trusted. Something like that would get him killed sooner rather then later. Especially with the mole and the danger this man was to that person. Why else would he be held back so much?

“Let me tell you something, pretty boy: When someone competent is held back like that that normally means you're getting in the way of someone else's ambitions. With the situation you, your people and your kingdom is in, you should seriously question who would benefit from you not being in a position of leadership.”

They started at each other and only because of that could she see how something in his gaze closed off. Damn it. She'd said too much.

Movement from the corner of her eyes made her look towards the garage. A young woman was walking towards them, her blond hair tumbling around her face in wild locks beneath a Hammerhead cap. The utility belt and the grease smudges on her face made it clear that she knew how to work. Aranea liked her already.

“Howdy, ya'll,” she said with a wave when she was close enough, Leidean accent thick on her tongue. “I'm Cidney. Paw paw and the General asked me to get ya, so if ya'll ready, follow me.”

Aranea nodded and stood up, Ulric doing the same.

“Just let me tell my companions. I'll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” Cidney said.

Aranea stepped into the camper where Wedge stood near the kitchenette, antenna in hand, and nodded in greeting. Biggs still sat on the sofa, pinging away, headphones pressed to one ear and a concentrated look on his face.

“How's it going?” she asked.

“Good so far,” answered Wedge.

“Reached our far off friends yet?”

Wedge shook his head in answer. She suppressed an aggravated sigh.

“Come and tell me immediately when you did. I'm going to the garage now, the negotiations are starting.”

“You shouldn't go alone,” rumbled Wedge.

“Don't you worry, Wedge. I'm a big girl and can look after myself. You need to help Biggs. If anything should happen you'll come running straight away, I have no doubt about that.”

“Damn straight, we will,” muttered Biggs while Wedge said at the same time: “Not worried about that.”

“I know,” she said and sighed. “Can't do anything about that, now. See you later, boys.”

With that she stepped back outside where Glaive Ulric and the girl, Cidney, were waiting. The former looked like he really didn't want to be here even as he causally chatted with Cidney. Or rather she talked about car engines and he listened, the look in is face telling Aranea that he had next to no idea what the blonde was talking about but was not willing to admit it.

The young woman, still more of a girl in Aranea's opinion, guided them the short way to the garage. The village of Hammerhead truly wasn't large. A few semi-scattered houses was all there was to it.

“Paw paw, we're here!” called Cidney, as she entered the garage.

Mister Sophiar stepped up to them from around a car that hadn't been there last evening. “Thank you, Cidney. Come along Commodore, Glaive Ulric. It's the same place we talked yesterday.”

“All right. I'll go back to my work. The car the General arrived in's a true travesty. See ya'll later,” with that Cidney gave a wave and went back outside. Presumably to take apart the General's car, much to Sir Ulric's quiet grumbling.

General Leonis stood up from his chosen seat when he saw them coming. Even up close the man cut a formidable figure. Nicks and tiny, near invisible scars showed his dedication to training, as did his physique. The wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth showed his growing age, however. He held out his hand for her to take. Apparently this was what Lucians did before and after a business and political meetings.

“Thank you for this meeting, Commodore Highwind. I am General Cor Leonis. The King of Lucis has given me full authority to negotiate in his stead. Sadly he couldn't make it in person. I hope this won't be detrimental to what we plan to do today.”

Aranea shook his hand twice before releasing it. She knew that some of her crew members were not so secretly part of the Nifelheimr soldiers that practically worshiped the ground the General walked on. Their faces would be hilarious if they could see this. The thought brought a smile to her face.

“No introductions necessary, General, but thank you nonetheless. Considering the current happenings I would be very surprised if King Regis himself would have come all the way out here.”

If she hadn't been watching his face so intently for any kind of reaction she would have missed the slight tightening of skin around his eyes. Next to them Mister Sophiar gave an amused snort.

“You had to chain him to his throne to keep him from coming, didn't you?”

“Cid,” said the General in a warning tone.

The old mechanic huffed. “If Regis doesn't like the way I talk he can come out here himself. But for that he would have to actually talk to me first. For some reason that doesn't seem to get through that thick skull of his.”

The General said nothing but Aranea had the feeling that, if she hadn't been there, this argument would have gone on for some time yet. Ulric, standing slightly behind the General now, had an incredulous look on his face that would have been hilarious, if she didn't have to concentrate.

“Enough of this. I don't want to wast my time. Sit down and start talking then I can go back to my own work,” said Mister Sophiar and said down.

Aranea also took a seat when she realized that the General was waiting for her to sit down before he himself did and Ulric was most likely waiting for the General to sit first. They sat across from each other, Ulric to the General's left and Mister Sophiar between them to act as a mediator. In the middle of the table sat the information chip and the self made viewing device. She had no idea what to call that thing.

General Leonis lifted a briefcase onto the table and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. He set it down on the table and slid it towards her. It bore the King's seal.

“King Regis has agreed to the price of one million Gil for the information that has been given to us. It will be deposited into a bank account of your choosing one week from the day you have it set up. We are willing to pay accordingly for any future information you give us.”

She read the neatly written paper. It was quite pretty, that was sure, but she had often seen what pretty papers were worth in the Empire. Letting it rest on the table she firmly looked the General in the eyes. Their gaze was stern, not exactly cold and a touch expectant. “What do you plan to give as insurance?”

The General was silent for a few seconds, clearly mulling the question over. He held his hand out in front of him and in a quiet shower of blue sparks a small item appeared in it. Unwillingly Aranea tensed. For her this kind of magic has never meant anything good, even if she was curious about it. It reminded her of falling air-ships, their dying screeches and the howling of the engines shortly before they exploded. What the General held in his hand now, however, was neither a weapon, nor a spell. It was a phone, she realized as he set it down on the table between them, sleek and dark grey in a protective covering of the same colour with dark red highlights. She gently took it and turned it between her hands. It didn't have a keypad, but instead only a few buttons at both sides and at what she assumed was the bottom end of the huge screen.

“This phone is from our latest production line and as of yet not available to the public. It has all the necessary military encryption and has the ability to decode messages. With this you also have a very restricted access to our networks. After the negotiations are over I will help you set it up so that it only may turn on with your fingerprint, a password and a retina scan.”

That was... more than just an insurance. That was a gamble, and a damn risky one. Just how desperate was Lucis in this war really? The General's face didn't give anything away. Mister Sophiar had raised both eyebrows but didn't say anything and Ulric did his best to look just as neutral as the General, but she could see his hand clenching and unclenching periodically. She nodded and set the phone down next to the paper. Biggs would do right about anything to get advanced Insomnian tech into his hands and not that outdated stuff that was still floating around out here in steadily decreasing quantity.

“That is acceptable,” she said and gave her voice a deliberate careless tune with just the right spark of interest. Being in the presence of that damn Chancellor had to have been good for something, after all. If that was how Lucis payed their spies she wondered why they hadn't already won the war.

“Good. Any future information you may hand over to us in the future will be compensated for accordingly. For that I personally will be your handler.”

Aranea resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. This was really not what she had expected, going in. But still she nodded her acceptance.

“Before I agree to that, there is something else I want and that is something I won't be moved from, I'm afraid. If somebody like me is caught fraternizing with the enemy there won't be a hearing, or a death sentence, or whatever it is you Lucians do. No. If people like that are caught they get disappeared into the science labs to never be seen again.”

She could see the rising distaste in the gazes of the people sitting with her around the table, and the quiet realization in the General's eyes. Still, he asked: “What it is you want?”

“You very well know what it is I want, General.”

Oh, know he did. Aranea could see it in the way he carried himself if not on his face. She just wanted him to say it first. And she knew that he knew it also. A small grin tugged at the corner of her lips but she fought it down.

“You want political asylum,” said Glaive Ulric who had been surprisingly quiet until now. On the other hand the files she had on him implied him to be more of a hunter than a soldier and that required patience and the ability to be quiet and not be seen.

Aranea inclined her head towards him in agreement. “Why should it be granted? You have, to date, killed every prisoner you have ever made, without exceptions.” The General shot him a look, but to his credit Ulric didn't even twitch. He had a serious set of balls to do that.

“There are worse things out there than a quick death, Glaive Ulric. Dissidents and traitors aren't the only people who vanish into Besithia's labs. It's rumored he especially likes the high ranking and stubborn ones. They're supposed to last longer. I heard him once bemoan his lack of such people towards Chancellor Izunia, when I was his armed escort. Who, as a matter of fact, no one has seen hide nor hair of for over a week.”

At her words all three men had grown rather pale. Aranea resisted the urge to huff in exasperation. What had they thought was happening to the prisoners of war? Hadn't they at last suspected what was going on when the last captain of the Kingsglaive had been captured and there had never been any kind of communication set up for a prisoner exchange or a ransom? Lucians.

“We suspected, but we were never able to confirm,” said the General after a few moments. He looked straight at her, ignoring the incredulous looks of the other two and looked straight at her. “Very well. Political asylum will be granted for you and your crew. I will need the exact number of the people working under you and their names before we leave. If you are discovered we will likely not be able to sent an extraction team, but we will not turn you away at our borders.”

She nodded and felt something tense in her core finally loosen up a tiny fraction as he slid another paper towards her.

Not much later, when all was said and done, and she had signed more papers than she was comfortable with, considering she was supposed to work as a spy, Ulric caught up to her just outside the garage.

“Why would you so suddenly decide to switch sides?” he asked rather bluntly and without preamble. It was quite rude in her opinion.

She threw him a teasing smirk. “I'm a mercenary, Ulric. I work for who pays me the most and do exactly as I'm payed to do.”

“That's not it,” he said with a conviction that surprised her, as he took a step towards her when she turned to leave. She could see Wedge standing outside the camper, watching them. “When you came here you didn't know if you would be getting payed. For Pitioss' sake, you and your companions might have been taken prisoner. You took a damn great risk in doing what you did. Thank you.”

He meant that. He honest to Ramuh meant that. For a long moment she just stared at him not knowing what to say. “Not all of us lack common human decency,” she settled on saying.

“But most don't act on it.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Instead he lifted his right hand horizontally up to his collarbones in some kind of greeting, she supposed. After a second of deliberation she responded with the three fingered salute of her tribe and walked away without another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!  
> Long time, no write. This chapter was like pulling teeth and I'm still not quite happy with it, but if I dont post it now, I never will.  
> Yes, I call Cindy Cidney because that's her name in the German localisation. Imo it also fits better with the whole "Cid" theme. Also, writing her accent has been killing me, so I trimmed it down to the bare minimum for my own sanity.  
> Concerning Aranea's backstory: I headcanon that Nifelheim was largely made up of desert tribes and that the one Aranea comes from worshipes Ramuh as their main diety. The Empire waking Shiva up and her dying and subsequently spreading ice and snow everywhere in revenge had some serious repercussions on the people. Namely the near extinction of some of the tribes, Aranea's included.  
> I couldn't quite get a grasp of Cor, so he comes across as a bit... hazy, I suppose. Sorry >.<
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	22. Noctis VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an eight year old Noctis goes on an adventure, meets an injured cat and learns part of what his magic actually does.  
> In which Noctis also learns a bit more about Ardyn only to come away from it with even more questions he doesn't know he has to ask yet and later on politics happen.  
> Featuring: a child's imagination, a golden tree, Noctis' lack of impulse control, corrupt doctors and Gammer's love for cryptic speeches.
> 
> Warnings: the inappropriate handling of an injured cat, the scourge being the scourge, corruption, politics

_10.18.743 ME_

_Insomnia, the Citadel_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Noctis met the cat in the conservatory that was more a fancy garden in a glass house than anything else in his opinion. It was so people could enjoy greenery during winter he had been told. The young prince wasn't sure he believed that. Somebody had to have thought it up so that the gardeners would have something to do once all the plants outside went to sleep. Otherwise they would just get bored and do something stupid. Not that he was an expert with that, contrary to Gladiolus' believe.

Sometimes, during the evenings he grew tired of the story books full of the adventures his ancestors had had hundreds and hundreds of years ago, his dad would tell him stories about his mum. One of them was set in this garden with a fancy glass roof so that the plants wouldn't get cold. Noctis kind of doubted that they could get a stuffy nose and a scratchy throat though.

Not too long ago his dad had told him about how his mum had planted a tree in here. She had done that once she had known that Noctis would be arriving soon. His dad had been fuzzy on those details and so he still didn't know how his mum had known. Maybe she was just that special. Apparently it was a very special tree because it was very rare. 'Close to ex-tinc-ti-on' were the words his dad had used, and explained that it meant 'nearly died out'. Noctis still wasn't sure he understood that but it couldn't be good if dying was part of it.

His mum had spent a great deal of time caring for that tree and upsetting the gardeners because of it. Noctis knew about upsetting the gardeners and thought it was quite fun. His mother must have been a great person to have found it fun, too. She had planted the tree for him, his dad had said. So obviously it now belonged to him and he had to take care of it. It was only logical.

As he slipped out of one of the more seldom used servants' entrances, a watering can in one hand and a backpack full of fertile earth on his back, he thought it made a great deal of sense. If his dad didn't agree, it just meant that he sometimes wasn't a very logical person.

He made sure that no one was anywhere in sight before hurrying along the path behind a line of bushes whose leaves had started to turn red and yellow. It wasn't far to the ferns growing along the outer glass wall of the conservatory. He started to crawl between them, always dragging the half full watering can with him and taking care not to spill any of the water, until he came to a glass pane that could be pulled open from the outside and was just big enough for him to crawl through. The young prince set his heavy backpack down next to the watering can and crawled through the small opening. At once the cool wind was replaced with warm air. After he was through he dragged both items after him before gently pulling the glass shut again.

The air around him smelled like fertile earth, growing greenery and sweet flowers. It clogged in his nose and the back of his throat, and as always when he was here he wasn't sure he liked it.

This wasn't his first time in the conservatory, but it was his first time alone here. Normally Ignis would be with him, or Gladiolus, or a member of the Crownsguard. Of those he preferred either uncle Cor or Monica. They were the only interesting ones. Now that he was here alone though, the trees somehow seemed taller. It made Noctis nervous.

A bright blue butterfly, as big as his hand, fluttered past, dancing in the air. For a moment the young prince wanted to chase after it. That would be quite the adventure, wouldn't it? But the wight of his backpack and the watering can reminded him why he had come here in the first place. He turned eight two months ago. He wasn't a little kid any more; he had a responsibility now and his dad always said that you had to honour those.

Instead, with a determined tilt to his mouth, he walked towards a small group of trees surrounding a collection of benches. Their iron frames were an unsightly combination of Insomnian geometric patterns and what seemed to look like a vine pattern inspired by Tenebrani art. They didn't fit at all, found Noctis, but apparently they had been a present and one didn't throw out presents. That was not nice and his dad was not a not nice person.

Noctis walked past the benches and their trees – or was it the trees and their benches? - and crossed a perfectly clean and proper path made out of gravel winding its way through the greenery in quiet dignity. The boy just couldn't resist the urge to drag his feet through it, leaving behind very obvious grooves. He grinned and continued his way until he reached a semi-hidden corner behind a row of bushes full of heavy yellow flowers, whose sweet smell made him sneeze.

There it stood. It was a small tree – his dad had told him that this kind of tree grew very slowly and that's why it was still so small, barely taller than he was – with yellowish bark and very light green leaves that looked golden when light hit them just right.

After once again making sure that no one was near, especially gardeners, Noctis set to work. He started with pulling out the grass around the tree. It wouldn't do for grass of all things to steel water and stuff from _his_ tree. His clothes and hands were dirty with clumps of earth and grass stains by the time he was satisfied enough and dragged his backpack over. Opening it he was hit again with the weird smell the earth inside gave off. Noctis didn't know what it was. He had just overheard a few gardeners how this was very special soil. So of course this is what his tree would get.

He dumped the backpack over and let it spill out. Noctis wrinkled his nose. Still he proceeded to distribute the earth in the area he had cleared of grass as evenly as possible, gently patting it down. It was exhausting work for him and once he was finished he wiped the sweat from his brow and smeared dirt all over his forehead. Now he only had to water the tree and he would be finished. He had seen the gardeners do it when they gave the flowers and bushes outside new earth.

He sat down next to the now empty watering can and looked at the tree with keen eyes. It looked happier now, he decided and complimented himself on a work well done.

That was when he heard the hissing. It came from beneath one of the surrounding bushes and sounded like a cat. Noctis had met one of Monica's cats one time after he had asked to. It had been warm and fluffy and had hissed at the coffee maker on the counter of the staff room of the Crownsguard.

Pushing the branches of the bush out of the way, his eyes met a trembling ball of fur that stared at him in fury. It really was a cat. A cat that had been hurt. Monica had told him that cats hid away, when they were hurt, to heal. He wondered where this one had come from and how it had gotten in here.

Carefully the young prince reached for the cat with one hand only to pull it back when one paw full of sharp claws swiped at him. Its hissing grew louder but it didn't move away from him. Noctis chewed at his lower lip, wondering what to do now. His dad had told him that it was the duty of the royal house to help those who were in need. The cat in front of him clearly was in need. So it was his duty to help it.

Furrowing his brow in determination, he called his magic from deep within his core. Golden lights started to dance around his fingers, following their every movement as if they were the tail ends of shooting stars. With the precious time he could steal away in the royal gardens he had been trying to figure out what his magic could do. One of the things he had found out was that animals didn't become aggressive when he used a magic covered hand to pat them. It was also how he had managed to befriend some of the birds living in the gardens.

The cat hissed again, its grey fur bristling, when he reached out again, but this time no claws tried to keep him away. A triumphant grin made its way on his lips when he felt soft fur under his fingers. Noctis began petting the cat, with each stroke tiny parts of light got left behind in its fur and soon it looked like it had caught thousands of stars.

Noctis leaned closer, encouraged that it had stopped hissing at him. Was it a girl cat or a boy cat? The young prince wasn't quite sure how to check that and so decided her name was Ravi and she was a girl.

“Don't be afraid, Ravi. I want to help you. When we find Monica she will know what to do. She's been caring for cats for years now, you know. Dad always says that you have to ask those for help, who are experts on the subject. So everything will be alright, 'cause Monica is an expert in caring for cats.”

With those words he grabbed Ravi with both hands and pulled her out of her hiding place. At once she began to howl until Noctis' ears started to ring, and tried to do her very best to claw the meat from his bones. Luckily she couldn't reach him with her paws. Now he could also see what was wrong with her. Ravi had a broken hind-leg.

His magic started to pulse in a strange way. The young prince chewed on his lip and tried not to loose his grip on his new potential friend. His magic had never done that before and it made him kind of nervous. Was he supposed to do something special? Was there a magic ritual for making friends with cats? His magic didn't answer. Instead it kept urging him towards Ravi's broken leg.

Before Noctis really knew what he was doing, he had changed his grip on her and touched the injured leg. Ravi howled even louder and doubled her efforts to escape his grip. Magic surged until it wafted around the leg like liquid light, or a fog so dense you felt like you were breathing water.

Sharp claws finally found his skin and left deep and bloody scratches behind. Startled – and not only because of the sudden pain – he let go of the cat, who ran as fast as she could between the bushes and vanished. She was not very fast however, dragging her previously broken leg behind her.

With huge eyes clouded with tears, and trembling like a leaf in the autumn winds, Noctis stared after the cat. How had he done that? Golden light caressed the deep scratches Ravi had given him, and left nothing behind but new skin and blood that had already been spilt.

The young prince blinked and suddenly felt incredibly tired. He suppressed a jaw cracking yawn and curled into a tiny ball of short limbs, wild black hair and dirt stained clothes at the foot of his tree and closed his eyes. It wouldn't hurt to take a short nap, he decided, even if he was far too old for something like that.

 _Maybe_ , he thought as he started to drift off, _dad will finally go to the ocean with me after I managed to cast family magic yesterday._

 

 

 

 

_8.3.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Air left Noctis' lungs in a relieved rush as he sat down on the stool by Ardyn's bed. It felt good to sit for a moment after running from patient to patient for half of the morning. Even two days after the earthquake his clinic was still overcrowded. The people visiting their loved ones or just coming by wanting to help in exchange for a hot meal didn't help at all.

Helping hands were always welcome, especially now with the rebuilding efforts and the many injured people, but 24 people was a bit much. Casto was downstairs carrying water so the poor boy could distract himself from his worry. The teenager was in over his head. Not that anyone could blame him. Or that Noctis was any different in this situation, really.

With a bone weary sigh he rotated his head and shoulders to work the kinks out of his tired muscles. With everything that had happened the last two days he was nothing but tired. Hiemi didn't fare any better but she just smiled and carried on. Sometimes he couldn't help but be in awe of his wife.

His gaze wandered to Ardyn who was still sleeping, buried under at last two thick blankets. Two days ago he had been exhausted when he had tried to find out why the older man didn't wake up. He hadn't found a satisfying answer. His instincts however made him suspect that it had something to do with the scourge.

Long, thin fingers came to rest upon a clammy brow. Two contact points would be better but he didn't want to risk Ardyn's body temperature lowering any further, so one would have to do.

The picture his magic painted for him was still more violet than golden. Not that it really surprised him. Noctis ignored the physical ailments after making sure they were not any worse, but in fact getting better, and dove straight down. That was the best way he could describe what he was doing.

It didn't take him long to find the sensation of _pain-magic-light_ again and to follow it further towards where he theorised the soul and magic were contained within a body.

He still wasn't prepared for the scourge lurking within. But this time he knew it was there and braced against it, shielding his consciousness against its greedy hunger. The very feeling of it made him want to turn around and flee, never to come back. It was not at all like any other case he had ever seen or read about.

Normally the scourge would... burrow – for lack of better word – within the afflicted and devour the healthy cells while replacing them with what he had come to call deamon matter. High concentrations of it showed as black bruises on the skin of the scourge sick before they turned into deamons.

Ardyn, however, was different to a degree that it seemed like a whole different disease. His cells weren't devoured or being replaced. Instead it looked like everything was meshed together until it was barely discernable where Ardyn ended and the scourge began. It made Noctis barely able to look away in dark fascination.

He didn't dare to come closer.

As carefully as he could he sent a spark of his magic into the jumbled wall of blackness. It seemed to shriek and shrink away, but it didn't attack like the scourge within a normal scourge sick person would. It was strange.

He sent another spark, bigger this time, and again the scourge didn't retaliate and it didn't seem to be able to back further away. Instead it churned like a storm cloud and shrieked like a caged animal.

The realization hit Noctis with all the force of a falling boulder to the head. It was caged. Truly caged. For whatever reason, it couldn't eat away at Ardyn's cells and so was forced to stay where it was, locked within this body for who knew how long now. The question that presented itself to Noctis now was: _How?_

How had Ardyn managed it, if it had been his doing at all?

Curiously Noctis inched closer again, trying to follow the feeling of magic-that-wasn't-his-but-was. He didn't quite dare to heal the scourge until he knew why it was different and how it was affecting its host. Not knowing that had killed the first person he had tried to heal of the scourge.

The feeling brought him closer and closer towards the black mass but still it did nothing but try and threaten. Noctis could feel sweat dripping down his brow as he let the blackness swallow him. It was mad. Absolutely mad. If Hiemi ever heard of this he would be sleeping on the couch for the next year at least.

Noctis didn't know how much time had past as he followed the invisible thread that beckoned him like a long lost friend or family member. Sometimes he could swear he saw shades moving in the shadows behind the protective cocoon of his magic that shielded his consciousness.

Further and further he went and slowly that half familiar sense of magic grew stronger. But it was also becoming more difficult to follow it. It was like an ever increasing pressure he was fighting and slowly losing against. Determined he pressed on until -

The force with which his consciousness rebound into his body nearly sent him onto the floor. Noctis' breath was ragged and stuttered within his lungs as he fought to get enough air into his body. His skin was slick with sweat and his limbs felt jittery, even if he was not quite shaking. The magical scars on his skin gave off a slight glow that wouldn't have been visible in direct light. They throbbed in a strange phantom pain.

Ardyn lay beneath his blankets still unconscious like this little excursion had never happened. Glowing violet eyes stared at the slack face of the older man, following the contours with startling intensity.

Resisting the urge to groan, Noctis slumped forward until his head nearly touched the mattress. Why was something like this always happening to him?

Crystal magic.

What he had felt had in part been crystal magic, and it had felt much more like his daughter's than his. Which meant that -

Noctis shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. There was enough going on right now that he didn't need to deal with another headache.

“Healer? Is everything alright?”

He didn't look up as he felt his wife stepping up to him and laid a warm, calloused hand on his neck.

“Ardyn, he-,” Noctis swallowed around the dryness in his throat, “he feels like Solaris.”

“I can see it,” she said after a long moment of silence.

“Do you think he's...” _Her father?_ Noctis could bring himself to say the words.

Next to him Hiemi hummed thoughtfully and slid her fingers across his spine in a soothing motion. “It's certainly possible, but I don't think so. Call it a hunch if you will, but I truly don't think he's her birth father. Family certainly, but not quite that close.”

“How close do you think?”

“Does it really matter?”

Leaning against her side and enjoying the warmth of her body despite the humid air in the room, he shook his head. “I suppose not.”

“You may not have sired her, Healer, but for all intends an purposes you're her tata. You brought her here and healed her, you care for her and love her as your own. And now you intend to teach her about the magic in her blood and bones she shares with you. With all of that it doesn't matter who truly sired her. After what happened to her, if this man knew or not doesn't matter, it doesn't even matter if he knows about her or not, he has no right to her left.”

Slowly, Noctis stood up, never breaking contact with his wonderful wife, and kissed her.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips.

_Thank you for being here. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for your love and patience and devotion. For your convictions and your strength. Thank you for being you._

Hiemi smiled. The radiance of it made her whole face light up. Her eyes sparkled a lively green, like leaves during summer. She kissed him. The kiss was deeper this time and just as loving. After it ended her eyes strayed to Ardyn.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Not worse. Casto takes good care of him, but it'll take time for him to get better. The scourge within his body is strange.”

“Strange how?”

Noctis shrugged. “It's hard to explain, but somehow its stronger and at the same time more... impotent maybe? Normally the scourge starts to evaporate just when the light of my magic hits it. There doesn't really need to be a healing intend behind it. This... strain doesn't do that, but it also doesn't attack me. It's more like it is either trying to keep me away or wanting to drag me in.”

Hiemi tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. It was like she knew exactly what he had done to come to this conclusion and it made Noctis more nervous than he cared to admit. She sighed and shook her head.

“I don't want to know. I truly don't. But if you die I'll find your soul before it gets anywhere near the crystal, revive you and kill you again.”

“Of course, my love,” he muttered and wondered why he was so thankful despite the blatant nervousness.

“Good,” she said. “Now come on. It's time for lunch and after that you need to get ready for the assembly.”

For a moment Noctis didn't know what she meant. Once he remembered he broke out in cold sweat. _Sacerdotium's_ assembly to vote for a new doge. He had totally forgotten that that was supposed to be today.

Hiemi shot him an unimpressed glance that clearly said she knew he had forgotten about it.

 

* * *

 

 

The building that served as a meeting hall was part of the great _forum_ that also included the great plaza where public assemblies and festivities were held. The roof had caved in centuries ago and had never been replaced. The only parts that remained of it were a series of stone arches that reminded Noctis of a ribcage. He had no idea what purpose the building had originally served, and nothing of its original interior had remained to serve as a clue.

Over the time the building had served as an assembly hall, the huge two storey room had been segmented into two parts. An entry hall, where you were registered as present by an attendant, searched for weapons and had to leave them behind for the duration of your stay, and the main hall where the actual assemblies took place.

Benches, made out of a combination of metal and stone, rose in long rows on two sides of the hall. Here most of the members of the caste would sit. At the front side, there stood a long table with a series of chairs. Traditionally for a caste meeting only four were occupied. Two by scribes, one by the chairman and the last by the doge. Visitors could make use of the gallery, if they so desired. No assembly was ever truly private in Deep City. Words only truly had power if they were heard, or so it was believed.

Noctis sat down in his usual place on the left side third row from the top and waved at the people greeting him with smiles on their faces. He saw a group of alley doctors seizing him up with dark looks on their faces, and resisted the urge to slump down in his seat. He had no desire to deal with Pravus and his ilk right now.

 _Sit up straight and don't slump your shoulders, your Highness. It shows a lack of will and a lack of will is a lack of power, which is a weakness your enemies will exploit,_ sounded Ignis' voice in his head, and without really meaning to, his whole posture changed.

He wasn't the humble healer any more that came into Deep City with a starving newborn baby while being half starved himself. No, he sat like the prince he was born as, oozing a confidence and self assuredness he didn't feel at all. People started to stare. He ignored it as best as he could and watched as more and more people entered the hall.

Nearly half of them wore bandages or had some kind of wound. Some even came still covered from head to toe in dust and dirt from helping with the clean up. Most who saw him waved or nodded in greeting, but no one came near. There was a nervous energy within the hall Noctis had never seen. Then again he had never been present when a doge had been elected. There hadn't been an election in any of the castes in six years and he had been here for barely three.

A familiar head of reddish blond hair entered the hall. Brown eyes met violet and shortly thereafter Lily sat next to him.

“My, I have never seen you clean up so nicely. Not even on your wedding day,” she grinned.

Noctis smiled and it bled a fraction of the tension out of his body. “On the morning of my wedding day I didn't even know there was one. Hiemi seemed to think this here's important enough to bring out the big blades.”

He resisted the urge to tug at his neat ponytail and instead plugged imaginary dust from the cloth of his toga. It was dyed a purple so dark it looked nearly black with myriads of stars and constellations sewn into it. One end was tugged into the wide cloth belt at his right hip and was draped over his left shoulder, where it fell down his back, wandered back over his right hip and was tugged into the belt again on his left side in artful folds. It covered most of the light knee length tunic he wore underneath it. He had insisted on the trousers though, and together with the old style sandals that wrapped around his ankles he looked ridiculous in his opinion.

Lily blinked. “Wait, that story's true? I thought Hiemi was exaggerating when she said you'd decided half an hour earlier you wanted to marry.”

“Well, it wasn't exactly half an hour but that's a pretty close estimate.”

“Holy fuck. No wonder you two fit together so well. You're both crazy. I thought Hiemi at last had some impulse control.”

Noctis hummed in amusement. He felt his eyebrows climb in surprise as Gammer walked into the hall. She had never been at any meeting he'd been to. Pitioss, he hadn't even known she was a member of the caste. In hindsight it was pretty obvious. People didn't call her the last priestess of Ifrit for no reason.

Next to him Lily made a sound of astonishment. “I didn't think we'd have this many visitors today.”

Indeed, the gallery was packed with people. Since this wasn't a public assembly, like the people of Deep City understood the concept, people not connected to a person of the _sacerdotium_ caste through family bonds, friendship or business stayed away. Nobody would hinder them, if they wished to attend as listeners, but in general they stayed away out of respect.

“Will you nominate yourself?”

The question made Noctis freeze like an anakh calf caught in the headlights. Lily's eyes zeroed in on him as he floundered for an answer and tried to swallow the grimace wanting to form on his face. Around them the conversations had grown quieter.

 _Hiemi thinks I should_ , he wanted to say and couldn't. Not with so many people listening in.

He took a deep breath to calm a sudden bout of nerves and nodded. “Yes,” he said and sounded more confident than he actually felt.

The conversations around them started up again with a new fervour. Noctis had no illusions of what they were talking about. Before this session was opened everybody in attendance would know what he had said.

“Are you sure about that, Healer?” whispered Lily into his ear, her eyes full of worry. She tugged at the long skirt of her dress.

“No,” he whispered back.

He would do it, however. Because Hiemi had been right on one aspect of their argument. People would vote for him, if he wanted them to or not. The power being a doge could give him would do nothing against the Drakonian. It would certainly help with other things, even if he didn't look forward to even more work.

A huge gong sounded, signalling the start of the assembly and at once all conversations in the hall stopped. All eyes were on the chairman – or chairwoman, rather.

Majori Murmuris was of an average high with classical Insomnian features. She was middle aged with hair shorn so short Noctis couldn't tell what colour it was. Until now there hadn't really been a reason for him to get to know her, so he only knew her as part of the group of people who helped people with disabilities.

Now she stood next to her chair and let her eyes wander over the people in attendance.

“Greetings to all who managed to be here today despite the tragedies that have befallen us.” Her voice was loud and clear and her hands repeated every word she spoke for those in attendance who were hard-of-hearing. “I want to begin this assembly with a question concerning our late doge, Baron Sallust Philon: Who here knows who has last seen him, so that we may do right by him in his funeral rights?”

Silence descended upon the hall as people looked at each other. Noctis stood up. At once all eyes were on him. Nerves made his stomach flutter. He hated public speaking.

“I spoke with Baron Fodio Lapis concerning this matter since Baron Sallust Philon died at his excavation site. The most likely person to last have spoken to him is Ardyn, who's a historian who recently came down here and was invited to help.”

“Thank you, Baron Healer. Please sent someone to fetch this Ardyn. Do you know where he is?” said the chairwoman.

“I'm sorry, Madam Chairwoman. Ardyn was in the tunnels when the earthquake happened and has since been determined to be in a coma. He's at my clinic at the moment.”

Noctis sat down, having said his piece. Whispering broke out among those in attendance until Majori raised her voice again. “Thank you for informing us of this, Baron Healer. Please let me know should he wake up in the coming week, otherwise we'll proceed with the funeral the best of our abilities in six days, as is tradition. Everybody in agreement?”

She waited for a moment, until it was clear that no one would speak up against the proposal, and nodded.

“Good. Next I would like to announce that during the break when the votes are counted, lists will hang out for those who have lost their homes during the earthquake. On these lists are people and places you can contact for a place to stay, if you don't already have one, until the rebuilding process is finished.”

One of the scribes, a young man, still more a teenager than anything else, with unusual light brown hair and a long scar beneath his left eye, held up a bound folder and laid it back down next to him on the table.

“Now to the reason we're all here: Does anybody want to put themselves forth for the vote?”

Noctis suppressed a groan as Pravus Opera stood up with a smug look on his face. He should have known that that guy would nominate himself, that prick. After him an old woman practically shot to her feet, glaring at the man as if her looks alone should be enough to kill him. Must be one of the patients he had swindled along his way to infamy. As it was clear that no one else would stand up and the people in the hall started to look at him more and more, including Majori, he heaved a quiet sigh and stood up.

At once people started to whisper again. Especially those in the gallery. Noctis didn't look up, he kept his eyes firmly on the chairwoman, who nodded at him, her face giving nothing away, but he could hear them moving around in excitement. After another minute ticked by and no one else stood up, the chairwoman started speaking again.

“Your names have been written down. Does anybody of those in attendance want to nominate somebody, should they be here today or not?”

Nobody moved.

“Is there anybody who wants to speak for the candidate known as Sir Pravus Opera?”

A candidate couldn't speak for themselves, but others could speak for them. Praise their deeds and character, the good they could do and the goals they had if they should win the vote. Up to five speakers were allowed for one candidate and one speech wasn't allowed to be longer than five minutes. Which was why normally the candidate selected the people to speak for him beforehand.

Obviously that was what Pravus had done as five people stood up one after the other and waxed as poetically as the time-constraints allowed them over what great a doctor their good friend was, how good he was at accumulating wealth and how he planned to use it to get insurances from the people of Above for their protection.

“With those precautions taken we may finally live in peace again, sleep without the fear of being discovered and hunted down,” ended the last speaker, all the while Pravus stared at Noctis as if every problem had been his fault alone.

Majori stood up again after the speaker had sat down. “Is there anybody who wants to speak against the candidate known as Sir Pravus Opera?”

The rules dictated that as many people as had spoken for a candidate could also speak against them. They also had five minutes each to convince people why it was a bad idea to vote for a candidate. It came to no surprise to Noctis as five people stood up to air their grievances.

Pravus was a bad doctor who charged horrendous prices for his services – going so far as to charge wooden goods. He was not the only one who had taken it as a personal offence when Noctis had opened his clinic and taken most of the patients from them.

“What would it get us, if Sir Pravus Opera were to bribe people from Above for our protection? Our anonymity is our greatest shield. Those people bribed would instead be another threat to us, as they would be more people in the know. People we don't need for us to stay safe. Should this truly happen I can guarantee the outcome will be our eventual discovery at a time we're not ready for it.”

People started clapping as the last speaker finished. The old woman who was also running for doge looked especially vicious as she did so. Noctis was starting to get really curious about what Pravus had done to offend her so much. Said man looked like he had just bitten into a lemon.

“Is there anybody who wants to speak for the candidate known as Signora Sola Valetudo?” asked Majori after the hall was quiet again.

For her only two people stood up. As they spoke it became increasingly clear that she had only put herself forward to keep Pravus from becoming doge.

“Is there anybody who wants to speak against the candidate known as Signora Sola Valetudo?”

One person stood up. Someone who had already spoken for or against a candidate could not speak. Getting competent speakers on one's side was a big part of winning the elections. There had been cases when a person had been bought by two opposing sides and had then spoken for a third.

Noctis kept his face carefully still as Signora Valetudo was accused of letting her personal feelings get in the way of her judgement, as the tragedy of her son's sickness and death and his subsequent debts to Pravus was laid bare. The old woman remained remarkably composed as the other woman spoke. Majori had to stop her after her five minutes were over.

If Noctis needed any incentive to actually become doge, it was right here, in front of his eyes. He could read between the lines. If this was truly how Pravus treated those under his care he could not become the leader of this caste.

“Is there anybody who wants to speak for the candidate known as Baron Healer?”

Noctis couldn't help but hold his breath as five people stood up. There were Lily, Thersa, the scribe with the light brown hair named Lucius, one of the priests of the Moon House and – he didn't know if he should be surprised or not – Gammer.

Five was good, really good. But it also meant five people could speak against him.

It was Lily who started with his love for his family, how well he treated children. She spoke of his patience, of his willingness to help and want nothing in return. She spoke of how he had built the house his clinic was in, back up himself and how it had in part been a gift for his wife – which while not quite true came close enough to what had actually happened.

Thersa spoke of the work he did as a healer, of how few people had died under his watch, and of the great dedication with which he treated the people under his care. Of the code under which he treated his patients and how he never betrayed their secrets.

Lucius did not make use of the full five minutes he had and was no great speaker. Still, he told of his mother that had been scourge sick and how Healer had healed her, how he had exhausted himself to save every life possible during what had come to be called the Black Month.

The priest mentioned his willingness to learn, his respect towards the traditions they kept and how well he had adapted to them. The man praised the care with which he handled the mortal remains of those few that did not leave his clinic alive.

Gammer was last. “You all know me and so you know I wouldn't be here, if I didn't deem it important enough,” she said into the resounding silence. Noctis could have heard a pin drop in the hall. “Our fires have been dying for a long time now. If it hadn't been for the man we know as Healer the starscourge would've taken more than half of us one and a half years ago and the rest would've fallen to the deamons. I'm not here to tell you what he's done. You all know that. I'm here to tell you that the secrets this man keeps are the fuel we need to keep our fires burning. His presence alone has rekindled the flames, and if he's in the position to do so, he'll make them burn even higher and brighter. This is why he needs to become doge. He'll shelter our fires from the coming storms that have shadows chasing at their heels.”

With that she sat down again.

People were slow to move. Here and there a few were clapping but most of them were whispering in low tones. Noctis didn't hear any of it. He was still staring at Gammer, who looked up at him with a strange orange sheen in her brown eyes.

“Is there anybody who wants to speak against the candidate known as Baron Healer?” came Majori's voice after a longer pause then there should have been.

Noctis knew he should have paid attention to those who were against him. He really should have. But he couldn't get over the fact that Gammer had just basically told everybody that his connection to his past would be what would safe them all. Which meant meeting his father, which meant confronting the Drakonian.

Maybe he should finally sent a letter with Umbra so that the messenger would get out of his home. Just during lunch Solaris had tried to kick him when he had come too close to her. The letter and pictures his children had prepared for their grandfather would remain unsent at least until after the _deminutum concilium_ had come together. Which would happen the day after their new doge had been elected. Which meant tomorrow.

Perhaps he should wait with opening up communications until everything had calmed down a bit.

A nudge to his side made him startle. Questioningly he looked to his side where Lily sat.

“Our chairwoman and the scribes just went out to the entrance hall to vote. Are you alright, Healer? What those against you said...”

She bit her lip and frowned in displeasure.

“What did they say?” Noctis couldn't help but ask. He thought he had heard something about his age.

“Wait, you didn't listen? But you looked at those idiots as if you were daring them to try something! The last one stuttered his way through what he wanted to say.”

“I was actually... no, never mind. But really, what did they say? I think I heard something about my youth or something?”

“Or something,” said Lily dry as a desert.

Before any of them could say something else Majori and the two scribes came back into the hall. Now it was up to the three candidates to vote. Noctis was the last of them to do so.

A screen had been set up in the entrance hall. It was a little over two metres high, made out of thin metal sheets that could fold up like the whole construction was one huge fan. At the entrance of the voting area stood a man handing out thin metal disks to the three of them.

“To cast your vote you'll need to put this disk onto the rod representing the person you want to vote for. They're set in the order in which you spoke in. From left to right that makes Sir Parvus Opera, Signora Sola Valetudo and Baron Healer. You'll go in one after the other. Please wait until the person in front of you has exited the voting area before entering. I'll be here for any questions you might have.”

“I'm not the one you need to explain this to,” muttered Parvus with a dark look towards Noctis and marched behind the screen.

Noctis turned the thin disk in his hands. It was much heavier than he thought it would be and nearly black. The makers mark near hole in the middle was that of the Ferrums. Otherwise it carried no embellishments.

“They're made from a special alloy that makes cheating next to impossible. Of course we also take other precautions,” said the attendant.

“I've been wondering why it was so heavy. Also, I recognize the makers mark. The Ferrums are the best metallurgists in Deep City,” said Noctis.

Parvus strutted past him, but his face was dark like a storm cloud. Signora Valetudo entered the voting area.

The attendant looked pleased at his assessment.

Signora Valetudo walked back out surprisingly fast. Noctis waited until the attendant nodded and then walked behind the screen. Three rods stood there, just like he had been told. Two of them sported metal disks. Parvus' had but one and the rest were on his. No wonder the man had looked like somebody had pissed into his breakfast.

Noctis turned the disk in his hand one last time before letting it slide down the rod that stood under the sign spelling his own name.

Back in the assembly hall he sat down next to Gammer.

“Salve, Gammer. I hope this day is treating you well,” he said, glad to be off his aching feet.

“Greetings to you too, laddie. This day's one step closer towards the ever smouldering embers. It's a good day, a good day, indeed.”

He didn't know what to say to that.

“Secrets have always been fuel for the fires, laddie. Kept hidden they bring nothing but shadows and their ilk, but come to light- words spoken at the right time in the right place have power and power is fire. Use that power and so you'll fuel the fires. Ours will keep burning and we may see what comes after the storms and the shadows that follow them.”

“But how?”

Bony fingers came to rest upon his.

“Oh, laddie. You've already started to. Oh, it seems to be my turn now.”

Before Noctis could say anything else Gammer stood up and made her way towards the entrance hall together with everybody who had spoken for him.

Gammer didn't come back and so he waited together with Lily as people slowly went to cast their votes. Some came back, some didn't. All in all it took a surprisingly short amount of time for everybody to vote and then for the votes to be counted.

Nearly five hours after the assembly had started the chairwoman walked back into the hall and those that still remained quieted as they waited for her to speak.

“Out of the 274 members of the _sacerdotium_ caste with a right to vote, 249 have voted today. Voted as doge of caste _sacerdotium_ with 193 votes was Baron Healer.”

Everything else she said was drowned out in thundering applause.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter*  
> Hey guys.  
> Sorry this took so long. There's so much going on right now that I don't have much time to write. But I managed to finish it!  
> Originally this chapter had 5 more pages and way more OCs that until now have never seen the light of day. It was quite unwieldy, so I cut it down to 9 pages and 4 new named character. Majori, the chairwoman, is actually a teacher and interpretor of sign language. Lucius was originally supposed to show up in chapter 3 but he didn't make the cut. Now he's finally made it^^  
> Thersa has been mentioned before. She's the matron of the orphanage Lily works at if she doesn't do work as a midwife.  
> A few other things concerning the titles they use:  
> Using the correct form of address in a formal setting like the assembly is a very important thing for these people. Using the wrong one on purpose is a terrible faux pas that can end with the perpetrator being thrown out of the assembly at best and out of their caste at worst. It's basically culutral suicide. The people of Deep City believe that words have power, so you have to use the right ones. Otherwise you'll just bring desaster over yourself and the people around you.  
> "Sir" is an unmarried man who has an occupation, is either the head of his family (basically of the main line) or head of his own business (has employees)  
> "Baron" is basically the same as "Sir", but he's married. (My use of this word has nothing to do with English nobility)  
> "Signora" is a married woman with an occupation but doesn't own a business  
> "Madame" is the same as "Sir" just for a woman. (Technically Majori would be addressed as Signora since she isn't head of a business, but she's the chairwoman of a caste and so is called Madame)  
> I hope this makes sense^^;
> 
> Next up: Nyx! (finally!)


	23. Nyx I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which importent plot threads meet and people talk.
> 
> Featuring:  
> Cor's version of promotion talks, a club meeting against conspirancy, Captain Drautos' suspicious absence, a daughter helping her mother and Nyx trying to be helpful.

_ 8.3.755 ME _

_ Insomnia _

_ Kingdom of Lucis _

 

This was all a huge pile of shit.

Until they arrived back in Insomnia the sun had nearly set, casting a golden hue over everything the waning light touched. During the whole ride back General Leonis had barely said a word, busying himself with the tablet instead, he used to go over the information of the stolen chip again, and Nyx himself had been too caught up in his own thoughts to be in the mood to say much of anything.

What had happened hadn't at all been what he had expected when he had been called out of bed in the middle of the night. He should have known that something would come up after he had managed to get off duty on time and head to bed early. Nyx had expected an attack by Niflheim, another part of the city caving in or something else along those lines. What had happened was that he got to play designated driver for General Leonis. He had nearly crashed when the adrenalin had left his body.

“What is your estimation of Commodore Highwind, Sir Ulric?”

The General was still looking through the information, his brow furrowed in clear displeasure. Whatever he was reading at the moment couldn't be good. Nyx focused back on the street.

_ How frustrating is it to face disciplinary actions for acts you should have been promoted for? _

His teeth ground together in frustration. The woman was frustrating beyond believe. What had she meant by that? He knew with his penchant of disregarding direct orders he would never be considered for a higher position within the Glaive than he had now. That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? The orders he ignored were more often than not to the detriment of the Glaive at large, as well as the individuals within. Those were orders he  _ couldn't _ abide.

For hearth and home.

For all that Captain Drautos used the phrase as a battle cry to rally his troops, that wasn't what it was at all. At its heart it was a philosophy every  _ Galahkar _ lived by body, mind and soul. For Nyx home wasn't just a place, the house he had lived in with his mother and sister, but the people. Libertus and Crowe and Pelna and even Luche, that pompous ass. And so many more. He would never leave his people behind. Never.

“The Commodore seems to hold great loyalty towards her people, and they to her in return,” he answered at last. “They trust her and she values that. Highwind told me that she works for those that pay her the most, but I don't think that's why she's taking such a risk, Ser. Whatever the Empire made her do or wants her to do, crossed a line she isn't willing to cross. It's too early to say if we can trust her, but I think she has a strong moral compass she isn't willing to throw aside just to make things easy for her.”

The car was silent for a while. A reporter on the radio talked about a planned procession towards the Disk of Cauthess to pray to Titan the Archaean, carver of mountains and father of earthquakes, and lay down offerings. All who could make it were invited in hopes it would appease the Astral and prevent following earthquakes.

In Nyx' opinion it was a waste of time better served to rebuilt.

General Leonis nodded. “Sound words, Sir Ulric. The Commodore could become a valuable ally. Before she was a part of the Niflheimr army she was a low tier mercenary with a small ragtag following of people from desert clans that nearly died out when Shiva cursed the Empire. As far as we can discern she accepted to work in their military to keep them afloat when they were low on jobs. She worked her way up to Commodore of the air fleet on talent and tenacity alone. Her records are quite impressive.”

That was a huge compliment coming from the Immortal. Nyx gripped the steering wheel tighter. Why was he telling him this? He risked another glance at the General. The man hadn't moved from his position, still looking at the tablet in his hands.

“Highwind has an agenda all her own, Ser. What that is, I cannot say.”

The General gave a little hum and that was that. Nyx didn't know what to make of this situation. It was disconcerting. This wasn't how the General normally acted around him on the off chance that they were in the vicinity of each other, or, even rarer, on the same assignment.

He dearly wanted to ask what this was all about, but this wasn't the Captain, it was the General. So he held his tongue and continued to drive.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Nyx found himself free for the evening he didn't know what to do. Oh, he was exhausted, no question. Had been for days, but he had also barely seen hide nor hair of his comrades and friends since this whole mess had started. He shouldn't have been stuck doing guard duty in this situation. It irked him to no end.

So now he stretched his aching bones from sitting in a car for most of the day and fished out his phone from his uniform jacket for the first time that day, to see if he could reach any of his friends. To his surprise there was a message waiting for him. He stared at the display of his old flip phone with raised eyebrows.

 

_ From Pelna: _

_ Meeting at the Black Saffron at 8pm concerning the camp situation. _

 

That... wasn't ominous at all.

The  _ Black Saffron _ was a dump. It was a hole in the wall kind of thing at the lower edge of the refugee district with cheap food and cheaper beer that managed to taste like warm piss. The people normally frequenting that establishment came from the upper slums. Usually Nyx had nothing against these people, they were more tolerant about the refugees than anybody else in this damned city, but the  _ Black Saffron _ had a reputation that wasn't very good, to put it mildly. Rumors about smuggling and trafficking surrounded it. It made him itch just thinking about it.

Nonetheless he started to make his way down instead of to the barracks. The display of his phone told him that he had just enough time to walk to the meeting place and maybe find something to eat on the way.

Insomnia wasn't a very pretty sight. Civilian traffic and public transport was still forbidden around the areas that had been hit the most by the earthquake. Rubble had been piled up in places where it was supposed to hinder the least. Nyx thought this tactic was only working on the lower levels of the city because most civilians still didn't dare to venture too far from where they were housed for the moment.

Nyx had to take a detour twice because the streets had been blocked off.

The further down he got, the more closed off buildings he saw. He frowned. He wasn't an expert on these kinds of things, but some of the apartment complexes looked fine to him. It made the uneasy feeling in his stomach more noticeable.

Nyx found his friends sitting in front of the entrance to the  _ Black Saffron _ at a group of tables that had been pushed together. In the middle was a tower of empty plates that looked like they would be knocked over the moment someone bumped into the tables. That wasn't what made him stop for a second in surprise.

Other than Pelna, Crowe, Libertus, Luche and Tredd, there were also three people that were definitely not part of the Kingsglaive. One was Gladiolus Amicitia. The man looked tired and frazzled, with darker rings under his eyes than he usually sported. Another was... Scientia was his name, Nyx thought. He didn't really know the younger man, they had never talked outside of polite greetings, but Nyx knew about all the hateful comments following him around. He looked frazzled and overworked, so different from his normally impeccable appearance. The last one was the youngest of the group with bright blond hair and more freckles than stars that could be seen through the New Wall. He was lively and nervous at the same time, nearly bouncing out of his seat.

Nyx shook his head and walked up to the unlikely group.

“When I got the message, this little get-together wasn't what I was expecting. Why the  _ Black Saffron _ ?”

“Nyx! I was starting to think the people up there were holding you captive or something,” boomed Libertus.

“Keep it down, big guy. Not everybody needs to know we're here, you know?” hissed Crowe and glared at her self declared older brother.

“You know me,” grinned Nyx and dragged a chair over that he wedged between Gladiolus and Pelna. “Eventually I always find a way to escape. But seriously, why here?”

They could have met at one of the camps to talk about this.

Luche pushed a glass full of... something in front of him. Skeptically Nyx sniffed at the dark drink and then took a tentative sip. The liquid was strangely thick on his tongue, definitely alcoholic and tasted strongly of barley. It wasn't half bad.

“We don't want people at the camps listening in, for one. The gossip mill kind of escalated in those. And all restaurants, bars and cafes are to remain closed to public business until the supply shortages have been sorted out. Technically the Black Saffron isn't open either, but the owner has been handing out food to people and I know someone who knows someone and so we got a place to meet, no questions asked,” said Pelna with a small grin at the end.

“You look like shit, Ulric,” said Gladiolus with a teasing tone.

Nyx snorted. “Better than you, Amicitia. Got thrown out of bed in the middle of the night. We may have had a lucky break in the war. Can't tell you more, though.”

“How lucky?” asked Tredd with raised eyebrows. The redhead exchanged a look with Luche.

“If it holds, which seems to be very likely according to the General, very lucky.”

“And you can't tell us?”

Nyx stared at Tredd. Sometimes he felt like the other needed a reality check. “I do many things for you all, including risking my life, but I won't be court martialed for blabbing where I shouldn't.”

Tredd raised his hands in surrender. “Right, right. Sorry for asking.”

He didn't sound sorry at all.

“We should start with what we have come for. Some of us can't be away indefinitely without raising suspicion,” jumped Scientia into the conversation.

“You're right,” agreed Gladiolus and leaned back in his chair. “Who wants to start?”

“I will, I suppose,” said Scientia, producing a stack of files and a fancy notebook from a bag at his feet. “First of all: Have today’s deliveries been complete and on time?”

“Mostly,” answered Gladiolus. “Like yesterday the fresh produce came only in half the ordered amount. And the early morning delivery for Camp 8 was late again. We also need more medical supplies and female hygiene products. I wrote a list.”

He held out his own folder towards Scientia, who took it and leafed through it before writing something down in his notebook.

“Good. I'm still not quite finished with organizing everything. Mrs. Custodela has been a valuable help with that. Whoever set the system up clearly didn't know what they were doing. Or they were not expecting an earthquake to happen. There is still no word of when people can go back into their homes, but some people have been starting to make noise about it, so I expect to hear at last something in the next few days.” He pulled out another file. This one was markedly thinner than the others. “On the matter of the money, there is, regrettably, not much to say.”

“What do you mean 'not much to say'?” ground Tredd out.

Nyx glanced at the redhead with raised eyebrows. He didn't really know what was going on, but he knew Tredd and the man was wound tight like a bow string.

“What money?” he asked.

“Apparently our dear Minister for Civic Affairs and Immigration took money he wasn't supposed to,” said Luche, his tone deceptively light.

Why wasn't Nyx surprised?

“The problem is that I haven't been able to track the money.” Scientia sounded rather put out having to make that admission.

“May I see the file, please?” asked Pelna, leaning forward.

Scientia eyed the tower of plates balancing in the middle of the tables and handed the file to Libertus, who gave it Crowe who gave it to Pelna. Pelna read the few sheets of paper within, while everybody waited in silence.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Minister has never been the greenest leaf on a tree, has he?”, he asked after a little while.

Libertus snorted in amusement. “What's got that to do with everything?” he asked.

“Because I remember that fool bumbling his way through the budget presentation for the immigration quarters. He couldn't keep a number straight. But this-” Pelna motioned at the folder emphatically “- this is a different beast. If it really was him he's had help. And a lot of it. We'll need a very good hacker to track this.”

“H-how good are we talking about here?”

The blond boy let out a tiny squeak and fidgeted in his seat as all eyes landed on him. Nyx frowned in sympathy.

“It's just that... ah... Imayprobablymaybebeabletohackintostuff.”

Nyx blinked in surprise as he deciphered what the younger had said. It took him several seconds to do it.

“Hey, take a deep breath, Prompto, and then say that again. I didn't catch that and I think I'm not the only one,” instructed Gladiolus.

The blond – Prompto – took a large gulp from the glass in front of him and took another calming breath. He flapped his hand around like a bird's wing as he said: “I... may be able to hack into stuff?”

“Nice to know and pretty convenient,” commented Crowe with a wry tilt to her mouth.

“I taught myself.” Prompto mumbled the admission rather bashfully. “I found the source code of a photo editor on my father's computer when I was just starting high school and it just kind of clicked.”

“That's certainly something,” said Libertus.

Prompto shrugged. “I've been programming my own photo editors because the official ones are so expensive.”

“That's very impressive and all, but can you really do a hacking job on this level? It's not simple programming like you do on your daddy's computer. This is hacking into government files and bank accounts. If you get caught there will be dire consequences.” Luche stared at the young man with hard eyes.

“You don't need to scare him, Luche. I think – Prompto, right? - I think Prompto knows about the potential consequences just as well as we do,” admonished Nyx.

“I would like to do a test run anyway before we tackle this. I may have some knowledge about hacking but this is way beyond my skill level,” interjected Pelna, a thoughtful frown on his face. “We cannot use the computers in the camps. One, they're all too old, and two, if somebody manages to track it back there, we'll all be seeing the inside of a prison cell faster than we can say 'fraud'. Prompto, would you be amenable to letting me look over your shoulder?”

“Sure, no problem. We could use the computer in my parents' house. They aren't in the city right now and I'm the one looking after it, so they won't notice anything,” Prompto hurried to say.

“Good,” nodded Scientia. “I'll leave it in your hands then. Please do it at your earliest convenience. Something about this is not right. I'll be looking further into the delivery discrepancies over the next few days.”

The people sitting around the group of tables nodded.

“You up for that?” asked Gladiolus, clearly concerned.

Scientia cast him a level stare. “It may take some time since we're only two people, but we'll manage. To be honest, I'm reluctant to ask other people for help. We do not need any more unknown factors in this than we already have.”

“If you say so, I'm not stopping you. Just remember to eat and sleep.”

Scientia tipped his head in a slight nod but didn't say anything.

“Are we getting the Captain in on this? He could be a great help keeping it all on the down low and his voice would give the accusations more weight.” Tredd made it sound so easy to get a hold on the Captain these days.

“Have you seen or heard from the Captain in the last two days?” asked Libertus, his face an impatient grimace.

“He must be very busy with what happened. You all know how he is, always working himself to the bone,” argued Tredd.

Nyx shifted uncomfortably in his old plastic chair. They could have simply missed each other and today he hadn't been at the citadel at all, but this still irked him and he couldn't say why. He huffed into his beer thingy and took another gulp.

“Something to say?” asked Crowe and gave him a look that clearly said  _ if you want to tell us something, speak _ .

Nyx shook his head. Crowe frowned at him but didn't say anything. Instead she shared a glance with Libertus Nyx didn't quite catch.

The talks lulled for a moment. No one really wanted to involve more people than necessary in something so risky. This could give them all life sentences in prison thrice over. Nyx had the feeling it would be a risk to try and catch the Captain somewhere, where curious ears couldn't hear. At least they shouldn't actively try.

_ Let me tell you something, pretty boy: When someone competent is held back like that that normally means you're getting in the way of someone else's ambitions. With the situation you, your people and your kingdom is in, you should seriously question who would benefit from you not being in a position of leadership. _

Nyx gritted his teeth and searched for something to distract him. His gaze settled on a slight movement in the corner of his eyes. It was a woman who held a little girl by the hand. At first glance she looked typically Insomnian, like one of those families that hadn't married people from outside the crown city in generations. Her skin tone, however, was even paler than usual, her black hair a riot of black curls tamed only by a shawl tied around her head. Her large eyes were a striking dark green.

The girl – she was maybe six or seven – saw them sitting outside the  _ Black Saffron _ and pressed closer to the woman. Her wild hair was a bright red with a brownish tint in the street light, with equally pale skin and big eyes that were a honey gold.

Their clothes were old and worn but obviously well cared for. Both had seemingly empty carry baskets strapped to their backs. What a peculiar pair they were. Nyx found himself grinning at the girl who nearly vanished behind the woman's legs and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She was a really cute little thing.

“Salute,” greeted the woman with a cautious smile.

“ _ Mati _ , who're they?” asked the girl. Nyx needed a few seconds to translate the accent in his head.

This wasn't the clean and crisp accent most Insmonians sported, even the working class. Immigrants then? The others around the table looked just as puzzled as he was.

“People jus' as hungry as we're, little sun,” answered – Mati?

Prompto bounced up from his chair and crouched down near the girl with a blinding grin. “Hi, my name's Prompto. May I ask your name little lady?”

The girl looked at the woman, who nodded, and then mumbled something Nyx couldn't quite catch.

“Solaris. That's a very nice name.”

That earned Prompto a cautious smile. Behind them a door squeaked open.

“Dame Hiemi! Ya finally came. I've been waitin'.” The speaker was the owner of this little hole in the wall.

“Salute, Cyathos. Good t' see yah 'gain. Ah'm sorry for the late 'rrival, the last few days've been very hectic.”

“Of course, of course. It's been absolutely dreadful. 'Specially since we're not allowed to open for the time being. But no worries. And who's yar little companion?” The barkeeper bent down slightly with a smile on his face. He was a burly man with a potbelly and huge hands.

“This's mah daughter, Solaris.”

The barkeeper straightened and waived the two inside. “Come in, come in. I've got everything prepared. Anythin' to have my son hale 'n' healthy again.”

The three vanished inside, the door squeaking close behind them.

“This is the weirdest accent I have ever heard in my entire life,” stated Prompto as he sat down in his chair again. Nyx had to agree.

Scientia cast a speculative glance at the closed door. “Let us concentrate on more important things for now. Does anybody have anything else to add?”

“Yes,” nodded Tredd. “Camp 12.” He looked at Prompto who jerked and dug out a stack of photographs from a pocket.

“This looks like an illegal junk heap or something,” stated Gladiolus after a few moments.

The pictures were scattered around the tables. They showed mountains of broken and bent metal, rubble and stone. Others showed the tables where scrap metal was being cleaned by people in work clothes, thick gloves and safety glasses. Pictures of the woman with caramel skin and long black dreadlocks, here eyes a striking light grey, the arriving cart and many close ups of faces.

“Those are good work,” whistled Nyx, impressed with the blond. Prompto laughed nervously at the compliment, nearly blushing. “Pelna, could you run those through facial recognition?”

The darker skinned man gathered the close ups, studying them closer. “I could,” he said at last. “The guy working there owes me one. But it would take a bit since I would have to do it in my free time.”

“Concentrate on the driver of the cart and those two women,” instructed Luche and pointed at a picture where the woman with the dreadlocks was talking to another woman with Insomnian features, short hair and light green eyes.

“Will do,” said Pelna and pocketed the pictures in question.

“Could be black market stuff,” muttered Libertus in relation to Gladiolus' earlier statement. “This looks like rubble from the collapsed buildings.”

“What would people want to do with rubble?”

“Now, Miss. Altius, since Insomnia closed its borders some thirty years ago, it has become quite expensive to dispose of demolition waste like what we see here. This here seems to me, like it could be an attempt at getting rid of it in a cheaper way.”

“It's always the money,” scoffed Libertus.

Well, money was as good a reason as any to Nyx. Lucian mainlanders seemed to think money would get rid of all their problems. The door behind them opened again and the woman stepped out followed by her daughter. She must have been quite young when she had had her. Their carry baskets were now full.

“Thanks ‘gain for yahr help,” she said with a smile.

“No problem at all. Ya're welcome ta come again anytime,” grinned the barkeeper.

“Ah think we'll be alright for now. Come, Solaris, time t’ go home,” she answered, nodded at them and started to guide her daughter away.

Nyx jumped up, agile as a cat, and took a step towards the duo. “Do you need an escort home? It's getting late and who knows what people will do since the earthquake.”

The woman's face was a mask of total neutrality as she eyed him from head to toe. “Nah, thanks,” she said at last. “The one who'd dare t’ do a thing would be very stupid, indeed.” With that they walked away.

“Nyx, the knight in shining armour, scorned by his chosen queen and princess,” grinned Libertus.

Nyx gave him the bird and sat down again. Around the table most people snickered. Scientia's lips twitched dangerously. He had only wanted to help. A woman alone with a child in the dark wasn't exactly his idea of safe.

“No worries. That woman knows how ta look after herself and most people around here know who she is. They would be very stupid to try something with her,” said the barkeeper.

“And who is she?” asked Luche skeptically.

The barkeeper blinked, surprised. “Why, Hiemi of course, wife of the famed Healer and a witch.”

“A witch,” repeated Gladiolus skeptically.

The older man nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Her husband’s helping my son.”

“The boy with the ashenhorn skin syndrome?”

“Yes! Now, if ya'll excuse me.” With those words the barkeeper vanished inside again.

“That was not strange at all,” muttered Prompto into the silence.

“I think this would be a good point to stop for today. There is much to do in the coming days. We should probably try and keep a closer eye on the so called Camp 12, if we can muster the manpower for it. Otherwise we should concentrate on our current duties,” stated Scientia and started to gather his files. “Gentlemen, Lady, I will keep in touch in case new developments come up. Good night.”

“I should also hit the sack,” said Gladiolus. Nyx knew that he wouldn't be sleeping, but look after his sister.

Prompto followed them after his own goodbyes. Now only the members of the Kingsglaive were left.

“How did that combination of people happen?” wondered Nyx.

Crowe snorted. “Funny you're asking that.”

Nyx settled down, a grin on his face, ready to spend another hour or two with the people he was closest to in this city. It was a small and very welcome break in the flurry of the last few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading yet another chapter! :)  
> Full disclosure on the dialect thing: I didn't have any one English dialect in mind while writing the dialogue in question. It's just to show the differences of the different people talking. I hope it's still intelligible.  
> So yes, they met! Not that they realize it. It has me cackling like a little gremlin.   
> "Salute" is a form of universal greeting in Deep City and adjacent areas.  
> "Mati" meant mother (informal) as a term of endearment. 
> 
> Next up: Ardyn!


	24. Ardyn V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ardyn finally wakes up and learnes things he's not emotionally prepared for.
> 
> Featuring:   
> The meta plot showing its face again, thoughts on Ardyn's past, the madness of witches and green mages, the scourge, magic, Noctis' causual shows of power he doesn't realize are just ridiculous and Astra adopting Ardyn.

_8.4.755 ME_

_Insomnia, Deep City_

_Kingdom of Lucis_

 

Ardyn awoke with a woman's cry echoing in his ears and the taste of hot ashes in his mouth.

He didn't want to move. As if by some divine mercy – as if that would ever happen to him - nothing hurt at the moment. It was like a miracle granted by the Gods. That thought made alarm bells go off in the back of his mind.

In addition he didn't feel cold. The coldness in him had started when he had first healed a person of the scourge. Afterwards it had only increased, especially during his long years bound in chains with only ageing stone and the sound of the sea as company. He wasn't warm now, not by a long shot – he doubted that he would be able to feel truly warm ever again in his cursed life – but he wasn't cold either. That alone was disconcerting enough for him to open his eyes.

The light, as muted as it was, didn't blind him. How interesting. Normally light, from which source didn't really matter, was irritating his eyes to some extend. Whatever was going on, he would find the one who put him in this situation and he would show them what it meant to go against Ardyn Lucis Caelum, damned by the Gods and curse of Eos.

He blinked. The cracked ceiling with its crumbling stucco came into sharp focus. He knew that ceiling. He could feel the lumpy mattress beneath him and the thick blanket he had been wrapped in. This was the room he inhabited in Healer's clinic.

Furrowing his brow he tried to gather his scrambled memories to figure out what exactly had happened. He remembered the stone tunnel.

Angelgard?

No.

Solheimr symbols and scripture on the walls. A moon outside their cemeteries and temples dedicated to the dead. A discussion with an older looking man.

Had there been another person there? A boy? Yes, yes, there had. Sensations came flooding back. The scourge had been in a panic, as much as something like it could be. And so full of yearning he still couldn't grasp it.

A presence bathed in light so old and sick it had nearly crushed him. Him. The Accursed. What a ridiculous notion. The sensation of that presence desperately tugging at what he had managed to salvage and hide of _himself_ all those long long years ago.

It had hurt so much. He had been so afraid.

Desperately he reached inwards and stopped short. The scourge was quieter than it had been for a long time. Cowering and... hurt. It was a muted hiss he only noticed because he had been listening for something. Beyond that, nestled in his bones in a steady not-quite-warm glow that should have been a flickering and dying thing, was his white magic.

Ardyn was in awe of it. But he didn't dare to call it out, to touch it. It was still so fragile. But he had, hadn't he?

 

_ With a strength that surprised even him he threw his whole body on top of the boy’s and reached for his magic that was still grappling with the presence. It started to weaken, to pull back. He forced as much of his white magic as he could through the aggressive shroud that was the scourge and shouted one word. _

In the name of the merciful Mother, by the holy rays of sun and moon, please.

Please.

“ _Protes!”_

Let this work.

_ Splintering, like breaking glass. A wheeze. _

_Pain. Pain, pain pain_ painpainpainpainpainpa-

_ Nothing. _

 

Had it worked? Had he truly managed a white spell?

The ability had started to fail him long before the Gods had forsaken him. Or had they ever really been on his side at all? Before it all, he had had a stronger inclination towards white magic than black magic, but then, with every scourge sick person he had healed, the scale had started to tip in the other direction. At first he hadn't even noticed. _What was a little bit of exhaustion in the grand scheme of things_ he had thought. But it hadn't only been lack of sleep.

He should have known. He should have known when a simple barrier spell failed in battle, when healing spells sapped more energy than a firaga spell, when his skin first started to prickle and then burn in the sun.

But he hadn't. Blinded by his faith in the words of lying Gods as he was.

Ardyn forced himself to focus on the present and move. Astonished, he lifted a hand in front of his eyes and balled it into a fist. The grinding of his joints that he had become so painfully intimate with since he had been freed from Angelgard, had vanished. No painful resistance or swollen joints. In a small experiment, he stretched out his arm – his elbow and shoulder moved without issue – and the sleeve of the tunic he wore slipped back. Thin bandages covered his scars. Curious, he pulled them back a tiny bit. He got a glimpse at a thick brown paste. It smelled strangely lake a swamp and at the same time sharply clean.

With a furrowed brow he heaved himself up. The painlessness in the movement left him feeling weightless and strangely bereft. He looked down. There hadn't been just one blanket, but three. One of them he wrapped around his shoulders as if it was a poncho.

In the dim light he saw two big jars and a thermos on the bedside table. On the stool next to his bed lay a small stack of books and beneath it a bowl with a half eaten meal. In the corner lay a thin mattress on the ground, complete with a pillow and blanket, surrounded by dirty clothes and an old carrying bag.

Voices floated through the slightly ajar door. More than he expected. The window was open and let in warm and muggy air. Ardyn pulled the blanket around his shoulders closer. Should he go and check out what was going on? No one seemed to be in a panic and this was a clinic. A larger group of people here wasn't anything unusual.

In the end the decision was taken out of his hands. The door swung open all the way and a teenager stepped inside. Ardyn recognized that angular face and those blue eyes. Despite the many blankets and the fact that he wasn't cold, goosebumps prickled up and down his arms and back.

They both had woken something. Something that had caused that earthquake. He remembered now. Hadn't the boy said something about- A surprised gasp startled him back into focus.

“You're awake!” the boy exclaimed and rushed to his side. What was his name again?

“Of course I'm awake. It's not like I slept away a whole year,” said Ardyn and swallowed. His voice was hoarse and rough like sandpaper. “I didn't sleep for a whole year, did I?” he added when he saw the teenager's face.

Hastily he shook his head and Ardyn's tense muscles relaxed a bit. “It's the fourth day after the earthquake. Everything is kinda topsy turvy. The whole clinic is overcrowded, but it's not as bad now as it had been even a day ago. There's more people leaving than are coming in so that's good, too. Oh, you want to know what happened, right? I don't really remember things that well after the ceiling started to fall on our heads, only... doesn't matter. Tata says we were trapped there for over half a day. I got away with a few scrapes and bruises – which was a right miracle, let me tell you – but you've been unconscious the whole time.”

Ardyn raised an eyebrow. Had the boy seen what Ardyn had tried to do? Had it worked? _Really_ worked? Only with great difficulty did he resist the urge to seek out his white magic again. What he had done earlier had been very risky and wouldn't have worked at all, if the scourge hadn't been acting so strange. He wanted to relish in his pain free existence for a little while longer.

“Why are you still here then and not with your tata, if you don't need medical attention?”

“You don't remember? When you shielded me with your own body you saved my life at the risk of your own. I'm in your debt now.”

Oh. A minion for life. Ardyn should be overjoyed.

He wasn't.

“I thought this system of debt wasn't in practice anymore,” he said carefully.

The boy – he should really ask for his name now, shouldn't he? - blinked in surprise.

“Above debts aren't honoured anymore?”

It was kind of cute how scandalized the boy sounded and looked. Ah, the joys of cultural differences in such close spaces. If his investigation was correct, and they were most of the time, the old concept of debts had been declared defunct some three hundred years ago. Apparently the cause had been some badly documented scandal in the Lucian nobility. What a pity. It made him wonder, however, how long exactly the people down here had been living in isolation.

“Oh, damn!” The boy jumped up with wide eyes. “I'll be back in a second. Healer said I should either fetch him or Hiemi when you wake up. Since Healer isn't here right now I'm going to go get Hiemi. Stay here and don't move.”

Amused Ardyn watched as the teenager practically ran out of the room without waiting for an answer. Ardyn didn't plan to go anywhere. A life-debt. Did it even count when he himself couldn't die? Using those parameters, he hadn't risked his life. He thought back to the boy's determined gaze. It wasn't worth the work to try and get him to reconsider. The headstrong youth. He had been like that, too, once. Before... simply before.

Hiemi Hestia stepped through the door. The boy followed her at a respectful distance. She smiled when she saw him.

“Ardyn! I'm so glad to see you awake.”

She lifted the books off the stool and sat down and without exactly wanting to, he returned her smile. Startled, he realized that he honestly meant it, too. How long had it been since he smiled at someone without any hidden agendas?

“I've never been better,” he said and meant it. He would treasure this reprieve from his pain for as long as he could.

“I'm glad,” she said, her smile growing a little bit. “Casto, please close the door. I apologize in advance, what comes next, I can't imagine will be easy for you. I'll ask you some questions, alright? If you don't want to answer, I promise not to pry, but be assured that outside of this room no one will learn of even a word that has been said here.”

This time Ardyn's smile didn't reach his eyes. It was the same he gave Aldercapt or Besithia, if he was subjected to one of their moods again. He could guess where this was going, what with the bandages he could feel covering most of his body.

“Of course, dearest Hiemi. I will do my best.”

She watched him, not fooled in the slightest. Ruefully he suddenly remembered his mother. How she had looked at him like that when he had been a child and had pulled off a prank again and managed to talk himself out of the consequences.

“I'll hold you to it, Ardyn. First, you should know that we, after Fodio, his people and my husband got you and Casto here back to the clinic, examined you. You were unconscious without any discernable cause and showed no signs of waking up. To be honest we still don't know why you didn't wake up. But the thing is-”

“You saw them,” interrupted Ardyn, his voice flat.

Of course she had. And Healer more than likely must have seen them, too. Somebody had to have bandaged him up and changed his clothes, after all. He didn't even understand why it was bothering him so much. No, that wasn't right. Of course he did. They were proof of his brother's treason. Holding his breath, he just waited for the scourge to howl in his blood until his ears rang and he couldn't hear anything else, like it had done before. Instead, it remained a faint murmur in his ears. That was so unusual that he stayed where he was.

“Casto, Healer and I,” she affirmed. “We healed your joints as best as we could, so you shouldn't have any difficulty moving once you're back on your feet. The scars... the tissue around them is worryingly inflexible. The cream beneath your bandages will help with that. Change them two times a day, once in the morning and one in the evening, and keep them covered. Casto got you a cane because of your knee and hip. He'll make sure that you use it.”

Hiemi Hestia cast him a stern look. He simply nodded. Partly overwhelmed, partly bewildered. He had expected derision, cruelty. Not this honest worry and care. All too well he remembered Somnus' sneer in glee as Gilgamesh had smashed his knee. He remembered the blood spreading around him in black puddles, the burn the sun had caused him and the sightless eyes of his wife.

“Ardyn.”

He looked into Hiemi Hestia's remarkable green eyes and tried to smile. Not that he managed more than a vague grimace.

“Back with us?” she asked softly.

“Ask your questions and we will see.”

For a few more seconds she searched his face. “Alright,” she conceded at last. “The injuries on your hip and knee are connected, aren't they? Can you tell me what caused them and how were they being treated afterwards? To be honest we're all astonished that that leg is still able to carry your weight without giving out.”

Ardyn tilted his head. “That is your question?”

“One of them, yes.”

Ardyn looked down at the leg in question still covered by the blankets. That it hadn't given out already was solely owed towards his tenacity, his pain tolerance and the starscourge. It held his body in a functioning state. Only functional didn't equal a painless existence. As long as he was able to move his leg nothing would change.

“No one treated it after it happened. It wasn't deemed necessary.”

There.

Hiemi Hestia's face had become an expressionless mask. Behind her Casto was worryingly pale. His eyes were comically wide and a hand was clasped over his mouth. At any other time Ardyn would have found that look hilarious.

“Not deemed necessary,” repeated Hiemi Hestia, her voice hollow, and shook her head so vigorously her curls flew around her head. “Healer examined both in great detail while you were unconscious, but didn't want to do anything without asking you. Would you agree to them getting healed? There would need to be an operation to get the bone chips out. Your bones grew together wrong because of them and that's what's causing you pain.”

Speechless, Ardyn looked at her. His fingers twitched. He opened his mouth, only to close it again. That wasn't true. That was too good to be true. Where was the catch?

“Think about it. I don't need an answer now. Talk to Healer once you're ready. No matter what you decide.” He nodded. “Good. One last question, then.”

“Just one?”

This time Ardyn managed a smile full of raw edges and teeth. Until now this whole ordeal had been more... harmless than he had thought. But he had to admit that his scars told their own story. His words weren't needed to explain them.

She looked at him and ice cold dread washed over him.

“For how long have you been suffering of the starscourge, Ardyn?”

He flinched. In a noisy _whoosh_ the air left his lungs. The urge to laugh bubbled in his chest. Despair, fear, hate familiar companions that clawed at his chest. His lips twitched, wanting to twist into a sneer. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, until he felt calm enough to answer.

“Dearest Hestia-” He stopped himself.

“Hestia?”

Had he said that out loud? “You are too warm to bear a name like Hiemi.”

She smiled soflty, and held his bigger hand between her smaller ones. They were so warm. He imagined how they could burn the skin from his bones.

“For how long?” she asked again, gently.

Ardyn sighed. Only a member of his family would marry a woman that was as amazing as the one in front of him. And also so strange and insane.

“The scourge is part of my life and my curse. It won't kill me, for that we have shared this body for too long.”

A knock sounded at the door and after an invitation from Hiemi Hestia, Healer stepped inside. Ardyn tried to pull his hand back but Hiemi Hestia kept it trapped between hers. Casto still stood pale as freshly fallen snow next to the window, no word leaving his mouth. The teenager looked at Healer. In his eyes Ardyn could see deep seated devotion and wonder. Had he missed something?

“You gave us quite the scare, Ardyn,” said Healer and closed the door again behind him. He looked like he had been put through the wringer. Even the fine clothing he wore couldn't hide the dark circles around his eyes, the sallow skin and the unwashed hair. Hiemi Hestia didn't look much better.

“Glad you're here,” she said while Healer came closer. Ardyn's hand twitched nervously. “How was the gathering of the _deminutum concilium_? Did you decide what to do next?”

Healer bent down and gave her a peck on the lips in greeting before he answered with a slight grimace: “Vesper thinks she's being clever with what she's been doing. She got some of her people into stealing the rubble of the damaged houses Above. For repairing the damage done to the Shadow Market, she says. Baculo nearly blew his shit. Aes and Fodio were all for it, of course. It's not like we have no use for the materials. Aes agreed to help oversee the operation.”

Ardyn could easily see a million things go wrong with that. Hiemi Hestia raised her eyebrows, clearly sceptical as well.

“That's what Vesper's been doing? Clever, ruthless, profit oriented Vesper Letum? Donna of the Shadow Market? That's not like her at all. The last person who tried to cheat her out of her goods ended up very dead in one of the abandoned alleys by her trusty redcaps.” She looked back at Ardyn. “We can discuss this later. Right now we were talking about Ardyn's condition.”

“Were we? I was of the opinion that we had already done that.” He grinned, his eyes hooded and carefully watching the other three occupants of this room. Not much longer and he would destroy something. Or wring somebodies neck. Depending on who or what was closest. Hiemi Hestia's fingers stroked over the back of his hand in an unconscious movement, leaving a fiery warm trace behind. It helped to ground him.

“I think I can do something about your scourge sickness,” Healer said without further delay.

Hiemi Hestia cast him a reproachful look. Ardyn didn't really notice. His attention lay solely on Healer at the moment. The edges of his vision were were a washed out grey.

“What did you just say?” he forced out between numb lips.

“I can do something about the scourge,” Healer repeated patiently. He carded his hands through his black hair, messing the tail it was bound in, up even more. He looked nearly embarrassed.

Something wet and ice cold dripped down Ardyn's face. He didn't need to see it to know what it was. He snarled. Blood rushed through his veins, hissing with a voice of thousands of desperate souls, and he couldn't hold them back even if he would have wanted to. He felt how Hiemi Hestia clutched his hand tighter. Careless, stupid, silly, brave girl. His self-control hung by a thread.

He was nearly paralysed with fear. Desperately it clawed its way up his throat until it burst out in a tumble of rough words.

No, not his family.

Not this boy.

Not _again_!

“Do you really believe that you can do anything about this, boy? After everything I did to banish the starscourge from this world, after all these endless years I tarried on this from the would-be-Gods forsaken planet, you dare to say something like this? And even if you could do it, the Astrals in their unending wisdom, would halt you in your action. Too desperately they cling to their precious plans. Don't make the same mistake I did. The consequences aren't pretty.”

Healer didn't move a muscle, his face blank. Violet-golden magic danced in the black lines on his skin. A shimmer bloomed across the room like millions of flowers and where it touched the scourge dripping out of his eyes and mouth, the black mucus dissipated into black smoke that dissolved into nothingness after a few seconds. The magic seeped into his greyish skin and burrowed deeper and deeper until if found the hidden spark of Ardyn's own magic.

A connection sprang to life between them the instant their magic touched. Ardyn gasped in surprise at the unexpected sensation and Healer's face went slack for a second. It was the magical bond between family members. Family. Magic that surrounded his in a protective cocoon. Sickly yellow eyes looked into glowing violet ones and in that moment a name ghosted through Ardyn's mind like a gentle whisper.

Oh, wasn't that a cruel play of the Gods.

“Noctis,” he whispered, blackness dripping from his lips.

“Hello, uncle.”

The two words were spoken with so much unbelieving amazement that Ardyn seriously questioned whether Healer really knew what he had just done. Hadn't Regis taught the boy anything? Healer – Noctis – took the few remaining steps towards the bed he was sitting on, stumbled them more, rather, and bent down so close to him that Ardyn doubted his sanity. Nobody should want to be this close to a scourge sick person. Nobody. Ever.

“You're like me.”

The light emanating from Noctis – and that still was like a punch in the gut – caused more black tears to fall from his eyes. He breathed in the air saturated with healing magic in large gulps and the scourge pulled back again, snarling like a wounded animal. Just how powerful was his nephew? Not even he had managed to literally dissolve the scourge into nothingness.

“Like you?” Ardyn asked and bathed in the light that came so close to searing the skin right off his bones.

“A white mage.”

“... It falls in the category of things that once were in my power to do.”

In a silent question Noctis looked at the edge of the bed and Ardyn nodded. The younger sat down. Nervousness swam in violet eyes, which amused Ardyn. Cool as a cucumber when confronted with the scourge but nervous at the sickbed of a – yes, what exactly? - member of his family or white mage? Hiemi Hestia had gained a wild look in her eyes that made him feel a smidge of apprehension.

“Do you know why the Drakonian is against members of the Lucis Caelum line being white mages so much that he orchestrates their deaths? I searched the family chronicles for people with my gifts after I understood that I wasn't a black mage. They all died before they reached the age of majority. There are stories my father told me that- it never ends well for anyone involved.”

Ardyn choked on his own spit. Hiemi Hestia grabbed the thermos from the bedside table and practically shoved it in his face. Grateful he took it from her. The tea inside was still hot and tasted of hot spices and pus with a strong dose of green magic. Cool ribbons travelled through his body, leaving behind a strange clean feeling. That... explained quite a few things.

“I fear part of that is on me. That old dragon and me haven't seen eye to eye for a very long time now, you could say. It's a very long and very boring story but at the gist of it he asked me for a favour and didn't hold to his end of the bargain.”

Noctis growled something unintelligible and Hiemi Hestia frowned darkly, anger flowing from her in waves.

“I'll kill him.”

Ardyn's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hair when he realized she was dead serious about it. Noctis simply sighed resigned, as if he had known she would say that, while Casto next to the window made a noise that sounded like a dying animal.

“Dearest Hestia, I would ask you to not go through with this undertaking. The Drakonian isn't also called the all-consuming Maw of War for nothing. In hindsight it is very obvious that I shouldn't have agreed to his pact. After all, he is the exact opposite of a white mage.”

“She could do it.”

All eyes focused on Casto who averted his gaze in embarrassment, visibly collected himself and looked at Hiemi Hestia. His gaze was full of awe and a little bit of fear.

“Two days ago she poisoned Shiva!”

“Could we, maybe, not talk about it?” groaned Noctis, hiding his face in his hands.

“No. No, no, no. Let's talk about it. She did _what_?”

Hiemi Hestia wrinkled her nose. “That she-devil threatened my family! She wanted to kidnap my husband and kill my children! I won't just roll over like a house-trained shadow cat and let her do it.”

Dark green eyes flashed and yellowish green sparks flew.

Herb witches and green mages. Both by themselves were crazy enough. Put both of them together and insanity was the result. Somewhere, somehow, something went quite clearly wrong. Ardyn didn't have that realization for the first time. However this time Bahamut had miscalculated more than he already had to begin with. Schadenfreude was still the best joy to be had. He grinned wolfishly.

“If you need advice I'll be glad to help,” he said, only halfway joking.

“Okay, that's enough. You can plan to murder the King of the Gods later. Casto, please ready a bath for Ardyn. I have the other patients to look after and Lily surely has other things to do than looking after the children here,” said Noctis, visibly at the end of his rope.

Hiemi Hestia looked at her husband, her eyes full of silent promises, but still then she nodded and stood up. Ardyn's hand suddenly felt so much colder. She pulled Casto, who stared at the hand that held his wrist, absolutely aghast, with her out of the room.

“What did you want to talk about, dearest nephew?” asked Ardyn after a moment of silence.

Noctis sighed and looked down at his hands, fingers tracing the black lines there. “I haven't had contact with my father since I've been fifteen. My children have never seen the full expanse of the sky. I'm hiding here, scared out of my mind. All of that just because my magic isn't what the dragon wanted it to be. If I could, I would kill him myself to keep my children safe, but- damn it. So much could go wrong and the moment he senses me-” He couldn't finish that sentence.

The clear desperation and worry and _fear_ was like a thousand needles in his shrivelled heart. “That's very touching, my dearest nephew, but one question remains: Why are you telling me this?”

“Family is very important to me, to my father. Our line has been slowly crumbling into dust for generations now. You're family, no matter how many generations I can feel there are between us. I think what I wanted to say was: We'll find a way to make this right. Somehow. I've healed people of the scourge before. It'll take me longer with you – much longer – but I know I can do it.”

“With enough time,” Ardyn said slowly and tried to stamp out the growing hope. If he had understood correctly, opposed to him, was Noctis a pure white mage, which heightened his potential in such spells exponentially.

Maybe. Yes, maybe.

“With enough time,” confirmed his nephew and then grew silent.

In the end he stood up and fetched a cane from the corner behind the dresser. It was of a simple design, made out of metal with a functional grip that was fashioned to fit his hand perfectly.

“I'll check you over one last time and then you can stand up as long as you're using the cane. I'll make you wear a leg-brace, if you don't. Avoid standing for too long and to carry heavy things. Best you avoid to wear yourself out in general.”

Ardyn swallowed the words lying on his tongue and nodded. He wanted to sleep. Sleep was good. As well as something to eat and a bath. He smelled. A long fingered hand came to rest on his forehead, and unbidden his eyes slipped closed. He could feel the magic, how it wandered through his body with searching fingers, coming to a stop here and there, and then continued its journey.

“So far so good. You're welcome to come down to eat, if you feel like after your bath. Otherwise Casto'll bring you something.” Noctis smiled wanly and turned to leave. “After dinner I'll help you with the cream for your scars. In the second jar, the one with the green lid, is a salve for your knee and hip, if they hurt too much.”

When he was finally alone, he pushed himself towards the edge of the bed and sullenly stared at the cane. At the thought of Hiemi Hestia's don't-you-dare look Ardyn made a face and took it. The tip was slightly flattened and the weight was distributed quite well. If push came to shove, he could use it as a kind of baton. He gripped the handle tighter and pulled himself up on his feet in one fluid motion.

Astonished he stood there, his weight distributed mostly between his healthy leg and the cane, and felt... nothing. No pain, no bone grinding on bone, only a slight pull of his muscles around his scars. He stared at his naked feet that poked out of the thick woollen trousers he wore, and wiggled his toes. The grin on his face was so wide that the muscles in his cheeks started to tremble. Carefully he took a step forward leaning on the cane and taking his weight off the injured knee. It felt awkward like this. But it worked. His grin became impossibly wide as he started to search for a pair of socks and his shoes.

Maybe a quarter of an hour later Casto found him as he walked up and down the length of his room, again and again, and giggled like a madman. The teenager's wide eyes stare said everything, but Ardyn only laughed and marched out of his room and into the bathroom on uneven steps, the cane giving a metallic _click_ every time he set it down.

Surprised he stopped in the doorway. The water in the bathtub shimmered as if it was hit by direct sunlight. It cast dancing reflections of light all over old and cracked marble. He had never seen something like this. He could practically taste the white magic in the air. Damn, just how powerful was Noctis?

On the edge of the bathtub laid a stack of towels and a few of his clothes. Ardyn closed the door behind him and stepped towards the glowing water. Curious, he dipped his hand into it. A shiver travelled down his back and prickled along his scalp. The scourge was _howling_. Before he had fully realized it, he sat in the tub, the water reaching up to his nose and his eyes closed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Aden!”, was the first thing Ardyn heard over the general commotion as he stepped into the kitchen, freshly finished with his bath and a blanket slung over his clothes like a toga.

Astra ran towards him, saw the cane and tried to slow down. He stumbled and skidded to a stop not even a step away from him. Carefully the young boy wrapped his arms around the uninjured leg and pressed his face into the blanket-toga.

Please don't let him cry, please don't let him cry, please don't-

“Come, Astra. Let Ardyn sit down. He's not allowed to stand for too long,” said Hiemi Hestia with a laughing while she filled up the plates on the table. It smelled of mushrooms and sour cream, herbs, tea and salad.

The child scrutinized the cane, before he took Ardyn by the hand and pulled him towards the table. Readily, he followed and sat down on the chair next to Astra's, who, satisfied with himself and the world around him, started to play with his fork. Across from him sat Solaris and stared at him. Amused he raised an enquiring eyebrow, but the girl just continued to stare. Ardyn shrugged. He had stopped understanding children a long time ago.

“Looks like Astra decided to adopt you,” said Noctis from his seat next to Solaris at the head of the table.

Next to Ardyn himself sat Lily and across from her sat Casto.

“It sure seems so,” he mused and wondered why the boy clung to him so much.

The meal was quite lively. Halfway through it three more people came into the room. Markus, Vox and a girl at the start of her teenage years. She introduced herself as Anis. More than once elbows bumped into each other.

Ardyn loved it.

This here was so much better then the stiff banquets in Nifelheim. It reminded him of simpler times.

People all around him laughed and talked and while the air became stuffy and hot with all the people in the room and a burning fire in the hearth, he relished in the lively atmosphere and the knowledge that maybe, just maybe there could be a way out of the dark pit the Gods and his brother had thrown him into. There was no pain in his movements and he could practically imagine what the food was supposed to taste like.

After everybody in the clinic had been fed, the children had been put to bed and the kitchen had been cleaned, despite his tiredness Ardyn sat with the other adults until late into the night around the hearth. It was the best evening he had had in many, many years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!  
> This chapter has existed as a German script for some time now, so I managed to write it pretty quick ;)  
> Also I feel like the plot just made a huge jump forward for some reason...  
> I should probably remind you all that I decided on a backstory for Ardyn in this fic before his DLC was even announced. For the sake of the plot I didn't want to change it. What do you think about my headcanons for the scourge? I'm really interested in what you think about it! Also, where do you think the scourge comes from?  
> The word 'Donna' is used here as a title that describes a woman that is head of a family or company and doesn't have to do manual work herself to survive.   
> Untill next chapter! :)
> 
> Next up: Noctis!


	25. Noctis IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Marilith attack happens and Noctis first meets Carbuncle, while in the present he has a heart to heart with his wife.
> 
> Featuring:  
> Dad being the best (sometimes), kid Noctis, Carbuncle's weird way of communicating, Etro's Gate, Noctis' lack of self esteem and darkness
> 
> Warnings:  
> character death, blood, injury, horror imagery and non-explicit steamy times at the end

_ 1.5.744 ME _

_ North-eastern Archipelago of Cavaugh _

_ Kingdom of Lucis _

 

Noctis sat in the back of the spacious car next to his nanny, his whole being practically burning in disappointment. This had been supposed to be a wonderful day out of the stuffy Citadel together with his dad. The young prince had had it all planned out down to the last detail for weeks now. He hadn't even complained when he got assigned extra studies as punishment for sneaking off to his mother's tree or had to wake up early.

It had been supposed to be just him and his dad - and  _ maybe _ a few guards in the background – having a picnic on the beach with all of their favourite foods and looking for seashells during low tide afterwards. His dad had said he could wish for anything he wanted to – within reason he had said and Noctis had wondered how something could be out of reason, but whatever – and that had been what he had wanted to do. When his dad had said yes, he had been over the moon in happiness.

In the end it hadn't worked out after all. He should have known.

His nanny said something no doubt placating, but Noctis wasn't listening. What did it matter? It didn't change the fact that his father wasn't here, but back at the Citadel where he was in a meeting with those creepy old ministers.

The car steadily made its way back towards the Crown City along the unpaved street. Noctis had barely enough time to realize that the strange rumbling sound he could hear steadily growing louder, wasn't coming from the car's engine, before he was violently thrown against his nanny. Metal screeched as the roof of the car was torn off and glass rained around him, glittering like precious diamonds in the light of flickering fires. His seat belt snapped.

Noctis could do nothing but scream in absolute fear, as what remained of the car was upended. He could barely hear his nanny scream his name over all that noise; her voice nearly tripping over itself as she threw herself over him.

He couldn't remember what happened next; he lay face down on the rough earth, something heavy and warm over him and restricting all movement. Not that he could have moved even if he wanted to. The earth under his fingers was cold even after a pleasantly sunny day. His arm twitched, sending a sharp pain through the limb.

There was something warm and wet. He blinked. He could also feel it dripping down his forehead. What was it? Why couldn't he move? Trying to lift his head sapped nearly all the energy he had left out of him.

His blank stare settled on the flickering fires and the screaming shadows. Not far from him lay something on the ground. His sight was growing fuzzy and he could barely make out a vague shape. Was that a pale hand, and there a dark head of hair?

A high pitched, animalistic scream made him look away instinctively. For one heartbeat Noctis couldn't help but be utterly thankful for it, but what he saw next was far worse. It was a... thing, covered in scales casting a sickly oily sheen. Even the parts that could have been human skin – or something close to it – had a greenish tint and there were  _ too many arms  _ clutching wickedly sharp blades.

Noctis had no idea why of all things it was the unnatural number of arms that was making him want to scream bloody murder, but he couldn't.

The thing moved. Was it... watching him?

His whole body convulsed as he instinctively tried to shy away from that predatory gaze, and suddenly he could feel nothing but hot, blinding pain. Air left his lungs and he couldn't bring himself to inhale, too consumed with what felt like burning irons trying to wind their way into his lower back and up his spine. The lights in front of his eyes began to flicker and strange patterns danced across his sight.

Noctis could do nothing but lie there on the ground in a puddle of what his hysteric brain now identified as blood. And suddenly he remembered the injured cat he had found by his mother's tree. In all his excitement of finally being able to get out of Insomnia, he had nearly forgotten about what had happened there.

The young prince had no idea what he was doing, nearly unconscious from the pain. Magic sparked. It sounded like the ringing of countless tiny bells. The glistening shapes dancing across his eyes turned into violet-golden galaxies, and he could feel how something in his back changed its position with a resounding  _ crack _ . The blackness that had been gathering at the corners of his vision, encroached upon him with alarming speed.

Somewhere something screeched. It sounded far away and like it came from under water. Metal rang against metal. The magical bond between him and his father pulsed like a fire storm, and suddenly, he was there.

His dad.

Like a baneful shade he marched towards the thing. Weapons circled around him like a lethal halo and everything was tinged in the blue sheen of his magic.

The world turned around its axis for a second time and faded into nothingness.

 

* * *

 

Noctis drifted through an all consuming blackness. He had no idea for how long he had been doing so.

He wanted his dad.

Where was his dad?

Hadn't he seen him before he lost consciousness? Had that thing gotten him? The thought was absurd. Nothing could hurt his dad. He was his dad, after all.

The greedy screams in the distance were slowly coming closer. They scared Noctis. He didn't want to know what would happen should they reach him. The blackness became thicker. It penetrated him with each pain filled breath he took, and made it feel like he was breathing in oil and a thick sooty smoke that kept scratching the back of his throat like sandpaper. He retched.

Where was his dad? Why wasn't he helping him like he always promised he would?

Noctis wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but he couldn't do any of it for fear of leading the voices towards him. Instead he screwed his eyes shut as tightly as he could and curled into a ball until his forehead was buried between his knees. Is hands pressed against his ears in an attempt to shut out the screams. It didn't help. They grew even louder instead.

Then, from one moment to the other, there was a gust of air and it was over.

Something cool and wet pressed against his cheek. With a hoarse scream Noctis threw himself away from the unexpected sensation and tore his eyes wide open. The darkness was gone. Instead he sat on a patch of wet earth surrounded by strangely colourless grass and the sky was hidden behind a thick shroud of mist, that didn't allow Noctis to see farther than a few metres.

His gaze was caught by a little creature with snowy white fur, huge ears, a bushy tail and a little red horn at the centre of its forehead. It was the size of a normal house cat and had a cute snout. Stunned, Noctis stared at the creature, who stared right back with fathomless and ancient eyes that shimmered like the ocean.

“Who... who are you?”

His voice sounded oddly muffled. It was as if the fog like shroud was swallowing each sound he made right up like a starving beast. He shivered at the thought.

The creature made a quiet sound that sounded like a curious mix between a cat and the squeaks a rubber toy made. One word drifted through Noctis' mind.

“Carbuncle?” the young prince asked, unsure if he had understood correctly.

Again that curious sound, this time affirmative. The creature puffed up in satisfaction until it looked like one giant ball of fluff. It made Noctis giggle and Carbuncle pranced about, clearly pleased.

“Hello, Carbuncle. My name is Noctis. Do you know where I am?”

A feeling that seemed to be a confirmation or something close to it, drifted through his mind. Noctis blinked. What a strange way to communicate. He shrugged the thought off. If it worked, it worked. It wasn't like animals could speak like people could.

“Can you take me to my dad? He's the King of Lucis, you know, and must be very worried for me,” asked the young prince.

Carbuncle's whole body shook in a clear 'no'. It could have been comical, if it had been in any other situation.

“Oh,” made Noctis, utterly disappointed.

The creature pressed into his right leg in a clear attempt to comfort him. It helped a bit, if not much. Noctis' fingers carded through soft fur again and again, until the burning in his eyes stopped and he didn't feel like he would start to cry at the drop of a hat.

What should he do now?

As if the boy's internal question had been heard, Carbuncle jumped up from next to him and walked a few paces, before looking back with large turquoise eyes, clearly expecting something.

“Am I to follow you?” Noctis loved starting sentences with 'am I to' ever since he had heard his father do it. It sounded cool and grown up. Two things he wanted to be.

A nod was his answer.

Carefully, Noctis stood up. The wet grass was slippery beneath his shoes. Luckily the ground neither sloped nor rose, so it wasn't too difficult to keep his footing. The young prince had no idea for how long they were walking in what seemed to be a straight line. He had lost any sense of time and the never changing surroundings certainly didn't help with his sense of direction. No matter how far they went, nothing changed. The same wet grass and the same shrouded sky.

Then, suddenly, a grey shape slowly came into view. Noctis had no idea what it was – trying to see through the fog was like trying to see through thick milky glass – and wanted to go closer to get a clear look at the thing. Blob. Whatever it was.

Carbuncle however, came to a stop in front of him, fur standing on end and would not let him step closer.

_ No – warning – danger. _

Noctis' stomach dropped. He took a step back, suddenly nervous and unsure. The feeling like the blob was eyeing him up hunger and greed, scratched along his skin in a near unbearable persistence. Carbuncle gazed at him in a clear warning for a few moments longer, then turned around and started to walk again. They travelled around the grey shape in a large circle. That wasn't the only time it happened and with each instance he grew more and more scared.

The young prince tried to ask Carbuncle about those things more than once, but the small creature never gave an answer. It didn't matter how far they went, Noctis felt neither hunger, nor thirst, nor did he grow tired.

“What kind of creature are you?” he asked at last in an attempt to distract himself from the gnawing uncertainty in his gut.

Carbuncle didn't turn around, nor did he stop, and for a moment Noctis thought his question had been ignored again. He got an answer. Hesitantly, and in a jumbled mix of emotions and pictures that tumbled through his mind, as if they didn't know where they should go.

_ Sleep – dreams – protection – children's laughter – shadows lurking beneath the consciousness. _

Noctis didn't really understand it. But that was alright. He could busy himself with trying to figure it out while they travelled along. For a long time nothing changed. Then he heard the the gurgle of water lapping against a shore. He hadn't heard anything but his own footsteps in so long that it took him a while to figure out what he was hearing; that he was hearing anything at all. At once his stride grew longer and his steps faster.

The water was just as colourless as the grass and the polished stones of the shore, and the bottom eluded his hungry gaze. He could feel the icy cold of the water seeping through his clothes without having to touch it. He shivered. Because of the limited vision the fog provided, he couldn't discern if this was a river or a lake or something else.

Carbuncle turned sharply to the left and Noctis followed dutifully. Dusk settled around them. He wasn't sure if that was the right word for it, but the world around them seemed to grow... greyer, until darkness had nearly settled in its entirety. The young prince couldn't see where he was setting his foot down and slipped. He nearly tumbled into the water, only just managing to regain his balance.

_ Warning – water – danger. _

Noctis grumbled under his breath and took a large step back from the water. Couldn't Carbuncle have warned him sooner? The sensation of an apology drifted across his mind and he let it drop.

They carried on until Noctis couldn't see anything but darkness and the glowing white fur of the small creature in front of him. The grass beneath his feet vanished until he walked atop something that might have been smooth and solid stone.

After so long the end of their journey came so abruptly that the boy nearly tripped over Carbuncle.

In front of them loomed a gate, impossibly darker than the darkness surrounding him. It was closed. Noctis had no idea how he could tell since he couldn't see much of anything. It was as if an ancient sense within him had awakened from its long, long sleep, and was now telling him what was there without him seeing it with his eyes.

From what Noctis could tell it wasn't even a gate in the traditional sense. It wasn't a door that could be opened and closed at a whim. No, it was as much an actual gate as the New Wall was one. That was to say in the sense that both separate one space from another. But still, even if it was more the idea of a gate he was standing in front of – which was so confusing it made his head hurt – it managed to be  covered in rich embellishments despite of that.

The young prince couldn't make them out, but he knew they were there. Slowly twisting lines of... something. Shadows upon shadows in the night. A thousand eyes staring at him.

He shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts out of the deeper levels of his consciousness the patterns wanted to drag him into. They made him feel like he could fall into another world at a moment's notice. It set his teeth on edge and made his stomach drop.

The gentle pressure of something cool and wet made him look down. It was Carbuncle, his fur glittering like stardust and his horn giving off a soft reddish glow. Big turquoise eyes blinked up at him, as if to reassure him that everything was alright. Noctis crouched down and buried his fingers into soft fur, glad to feel something else aside from the staring that made his skin crawl.

“What is this place?” he whispered as quietly as he could.

Carbuncle made that strange yipping sound again, the little body pressing into the touch of his fingers.  _ Night – magic – beyond – running water – journey – sails blowing in non existing wind – end – begin again. _

“I... I don't understand.” Noctis felt the tears burning in his eyes again. With one hand he scrubbed at his cheeks to keep them from falling. “I just want my dad,” he sobbed.

Without hesitation Carbuncle climbed into his lap and didn't protest at being cuddled like a stuffed animal. Noctis felt like he was being wrapped into a big and warm hug.

_ Safe – protection – safe – behind a door – family – waiting – magic – learning. _

It took a while until the young prince could speak around the lump in his throat. “There's a member of my family waiting who wants to teach me magic?”

_ Affirmation. _

“But not my dad?”

_ No. _

Noctis worried his lower lip. Was it maybe a King of yore like in the stories his dad had told him? He wasn't sure if he wanted to meet them. Most of them sounded scary. But he had always wanted to have more family. Maybe someone who wasn't always busy and could play with him whenever he wanted.

“Okay,” he said and stood up.

Carbuncle jumped around his legs in clear excitement and joy. It startled a laugh out of the young prince. The small creature pranced up to the gate, the bushy tail twisting in anticipation. Noctis followed hesitantly. The embellishments still made his stomach churn and his skin crawl, but he pressed on until he stood directly in front of it next to his new... friend maybe?

He had never had a friend of his own. Ignis didn't count since he would be part of his future council and they had to get along.

As he came to a stop the embellishments began to glow brightly, but still there was no light. The young prince had no idea how to describe it. Lines began to move over and under each other like growing vines or a well oiled machine. Noctis couldn't look at it without going cross eyed and having the urge to vomit.

A bell rang once, its sound rattled Noctis down to his very being and he nearly lost his balance. Carbuncle was the only reason he didn't turn around and ran. He was sure he would have nightmares of this for a long time. It was the resulting silence after that one toll of the bell that made his ears hurt. He pressed his hands against them to drown it out. It didn't help much.

_ Open – go through – protection. _

With a gentle push the small creature coaxed his legs into moving again. Noctis closed his eyes, hands still protecting his ears, and stepped through the gate.

  
  


 

_ 8.5.755 ME _

_ Insomnia, Deep City _

_ Kingdom of Lucis _

 

The bedroom was dark and uncomfortably stuffy. It was probably so late it was early again and despite the weariness in his bones, Noctis couldn't sleep. So much had happened over the last few days that he hadn't had a chance to process it all.

The earthquake, that presence, Luna's letter, Shiva of all Astrals finding him, becoming doge and Ardyn.

That man was a whole different can of worms. Through their bond – as weak and threadbare as it might be – he could feel the sheer  _ age _ and  _ tiredness _ the man gave off, coupled with a festering hate. It was disconcerting and Noctis had no idea what to do with it.

“I can hear you worrying your pretty head from here. What's wrong?” asked Hiemi, her voice quiet.

“It's nothing,” he murmured. He hadn't known she was still awake.

She shifted until her warm body was pressed into his side, her head on his shoulder and her arms around him in a loose hug. “Don't start that with me again, mister. I've known you long enough to know something isn't right”, she admonished gently, but there was a firmness in her voice that let him know she wouldn't let this go.

He pressed his face into her unruly hair and sighed. “It's Ardyn,” he admitted. He swallowed, trying to order his thoughts while his wife waited patiently for him to continue. “I want to help him. He's family – but not just because of that. No one deserves... but I don't know  _ how _ . Fuck, that doesn't make any sense, does it?”

Hiemi's right hand caressed his hipbone in a soothing gesture. “But you're already helping him,” she said and before he could protest she continued. “ _ We're _ already helping him with just being there for him. We listen when he talks and we don't shy away from him. And you. You're healing him from hurts so old he probably can't remember what it's like to be without them. It'll take a long time for him to heal, physically and mentally, but the process has already started and you've been a big part of that.”

Noctis didn't say anything. He just took in his wife's strong presence and basked in her warmth. He breathed in, the scent of jasmine and cool shadows and herbs tingling his senses.

“That's not all, isn't it?”

The question startled him from the doze he had fallen into.

“I don't know if I can be what the people need,” he whispered so quietly, he didn't know if Hiemi had heard him.

Long and thin fingers began to comb through his long hair.

“But you  _ are _ enough, my  _ inamorato _ . You've done so much more than most people could in your situation. The people know this and love you for it.”

Noctis snorted in disbelief. He could practically see her nose wrinkle as she frowned.

“Is this about what happened at the  _ concilium _ ? We haven't really had the opportunity to talk about it.”

“It wasn't so bad. I mean, I know I'm the youngest doge they've had in a while, so I expected there to be a few bumps in the road. Vesper was the only one who wasn't really happy about it – I think she's still mad about me having declined her offer to become her private healer. The meeting went fine for the most part. We discussed funeral rights for the dead, clean up and rebuilding efforts. But then Vesper just had to start with that camp of hers.

From what I've gathered, Aes has been helping her from the start. That thing's such a risky, stupid idea, I don't know how that woman even came up with it. Vesper has her people collect the rubble from collapsed houses Above to use as repair material. She says it won't be noticed in the chaos, but...”

“You fear it'll be discovered, and by extension, you and the whole city.”

Noctis just nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I don't think Aes would be in on this for any eventual profit,” his wife continued after a short silence. “I've known her for nearly ten years now and she never struck me as a person who would risk everything for physical gain. Maybe she has another reason for it.”

“The support system,” Noctis whispered in realization.

Hiemi hummed in affirmation.

They still hadn't come to a final decision on what to do about that. It wouldn't hold for much longer. Fodio had said his brother was trying to figure the system out in its entirety with the help of some of Aes's people, but it was slow going. At the beginning there must have been a very thought out concept behind it, but as time went on more and more things had been added to it, some even to the system’s detriment. And even if Sax figured it out on time, they still lacked the materials to do much about it.

“I think Aes is trying to get the materials and tools needed through Vesper. She told me a few weeks ago that large parts of the heap are still not accessible because of the contaminated waste they threw down,” said Hiemi, her breath ghosting over his collarbone and neck.

“I understand that, but I still don't like it,” Noctis muttered.

“You don't have to, and I understand why it makes you so nervous, but she generally knows what she's doing. You know that she's not someone taking unnecessary risks. She loves her grandfather too much to destroy what he worked for.” She hesitated for a few moments. “I could go and take a look, if you want?”

Her offer made Noctis pause. His knee-jerk reaction was to say no. The camp was too close to the lower levels that were still officially inhabited. On the other hand he knew that Hiemi wouldn't let him ban her from going just because he was worried. She had gone into the ghetto and the lower refugee districts often enough and she knew how to look after herself. No one in their right mind would try something. She would be fine. Still, if Bahamut was able to sense her connection to him...

“I don't want to add to your tasks. You already do so much,” he murmured instead of airing his worries.

Hiemi gave a quiet chuckle. “I see right through you, Healer. The worry radiates off of you like a furnace radiates heat. If you don't want me to go, I won't, but I really think someone should go up there and take a look at what they're doing. We could ask Markus to go, or Tulia. The Six know that poor woman needs something to do that doesn't involve wasting away in her own home.”

“We can ask Tulia,” he whispered into her hair, the hand that had come to rest on her waist during their conversation, squeezed her gently. “She really needs to get out of that house for a bit and maybe having a task will do her good. Would you be willing to accompany her?”

“Of course,” Hiemi said.

“Thank you.”

The fingers stroking over his hipbone wandered lower, skimmed close to his pubic bone and caressed the inside of his thigh. At the same time butterfly kisses wandered from his shoulder up his throat and over his jaw. His breath hitched. She was now laying half on to of him, her breasts pressing into his chest. One of his hands stroked up and down her spine while the other came to rest upon her bottom.

“Hiemi.” He whispered her name like a prayer.

“Sshhh. Let me take care of you,” she mouthed against his jaw.

Noctis couldn't see her in the dark, but he knew there would be a hungry glint in her darkened eyes as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of the shorts he wore to bed. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done!  
> The parts between Noctis and Carbuncle were done pretty fast, but the rest... not so much. The end part is the closest I will probably ever come to writing an actual sex scene. Everything else on that I will let your imagination fill in.   
> We are inching our way along the plot, people. At first the latter half was supposed to be something different but then Hiemi hijacked it with the words: "I need some alone time with my husband." Who am I to say no?  
> For anybody interested: 'inamorato' is an old Italian term (inamorare) from the 16th century meaning enamoured. It can be used as an enearment.  
> Noctis will slowly inch out of his fear of devine retribution. He's trying, okay?  
> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Next chapter: Luna!


End file.
